End of the Tunnel
by Javanyet
Summary: There's a light, and even if it's not an oncoming train who said it would be easy? Definitely not Ham and Angie.  There will be more, just not immediately...
1. Coffee Hour

"I see you here every morning… why do you do it? I never see you eat anything or swill coffee."

Willie weighed his answer carefully. While he willingly recognized the "new" Todd as an ally, and had no solid reason to disbelieve his willingness to help, experience had been a harsh teacher. More than a few people Willie had believed would accept him had become hostile when they learned he was a Visitor, regardless of how friendly they'd seemed.

"It is a time to know people." The youngster who shared the table with him studied him. Willie saw more curiosity than suspicion, or so he hoped. His time with the humans still held surprises for him. "It can help when we must work together."

"Yeah," Todd's expression and voice grew hard, "whatever it takes to get these assholes out. Sorry," he added, "I know I came out of freaking nowhere. But like anyone else, I got a grudge. My family, well… I pissed them off a lot, but it'd be worth pissing them off again to find them." He paused, and finished bitterly. "Never mind. I know what happened. Fucking asshole lizards wiped out everything where I came from, no question they got my family too."

"I must tell you." This was always the hardest part of forming a friendship, for reasons too complex to describe. "If we will work together… I am one of 'them'." Willie waited uncertainly. Todd didn't respond at first, except to suck down the rest of his coffee and shrug, so Willie continued.

"I am sorry, Todd. For the things our leaders have done to those who did us no harm. To those who wished to help us…" he paused sadly. The knowledge always made him sad. "To those who believed the lies told to them." He was surprised to see New Todd smile.

"I know, man. That's what makes you one of 'us'." After a pause he added, "And I'm sorry for what that other Todd did, and for what he got stopped from doing." Details of Visitor Todd's connection to the rebels, and unexpected activities on their behalf, had traveled as quickly in camp as any lesser gossip.

The casual acceptance in his new friend's voice erased Willie's doubts; suddenly he was filled with energy and determination.

"Come," Willie pulled Todd from his chair, "we have much to do. I will categorize the names of your people and ours," then he corrected himself. "I will sort out the rebels and the invaders." "Your" and "ours" seemed wrong, somehow. "Angie has said she will work on the doormat for the messages."

His head filled with nascent code (he was one of those über-geeks who could write in binary if need be), New Todd had been trailing behind Willie on the way to the to the computer room. Now he pulled up short. "Doormat? What the fuck? A doormat for the messages?"

"I am sorry. You do not know my English. It is getting better but… uhm, doormat… the way in which to arrange the content of the messages so they will be read quickly."

The younger man squinted, shook his head, then his eyes popped open wider. "_Format!_ You mean the format of the messages, like what will suck in your leaders, and the human assholes, and all that. I get it. And when we all get our own thing worked out…"

"We will put it together and kick mass." Willie smiled proudly at his command of assertive slang. Todd exploded with laughter, but it was a friendly laugh.

"That's right, bro," Todd banged Willie on the shoulder and pulled him into step beside him, "we're gonna kick some _major_ mass!"

* * *

"Shit, Mike and Robert are cleaning up their stuff… that means just one thing." From the ass-numbing plastic chair where she slouched Angie rolled her head to one side to cut a look at Tyler, who was slouched (albeit a bit less extravagantly) in an identical chair next to hers. Their empty coffee mugs sat side by side on the floor by their feet.

"Another fucking meeting," Tyler drawled in reply.

Angie heaved a huge sigh. "Gotta move again, I guess. Once my Geek Posse flips the switch, it won't take long for them to find us." She saw Tyler's characteristic annoyed smirk warm into one of the rare, genuine smiles she loved to bask in. "What? That sound like a _good _idea?"

Tyler sat up and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head turned to where Angie remained in full slouch. "You said '_my_' Geek Posse. First time I've heard you own anything you've done here." He thought for a moment. "First time there was anything you_ wanted_ to own."

Now Angie struggled upright, and reached down to pick up both mugs. "Figure of speech, Tyler. I don't want to 'own' any of it."

"C'mon, Angel," he badgered, "you've earned it. The edge, the attitude, and the rep. You've earned it all."

She got up without looking at him. "Yeah well I don't remember asking for any of it. And when this is all over and I come out that 'other side' you keep telling me I'll find…" when she turned to look at him he was standing right behind her, close enough for them to share body heat.

"What?" he invited, in his quietest voice.

"Whatever it is, you can take it all and… do whatever you want with it. Just don't give it back to me." She set the mugs on the table and rubbed both hands vigorously over her face and eyes then whipped around and grabbed Tyler's sleeve with one hand. "Promise me." The perplexed expression he'd been wearing evaporated when Angie's grip shifted to clamp onto his wrist.

"What." No question mark.

"Promise me I don't ever have to touch a fucking weapon, I don't ever have to destroy anything, I don't ever have to _kill_ anybody again, I don't care who they are or what they've done. I just want to _stop_. When it's all over." He touched her face with one gentle hand but her urgency didn't waver. "Promise me I can stop." She stared into his eyes, looking deep inside them, as always, for the promises nobody could keep. But this time there was no pained truth hiding there.

Tyler knew too well that Angie wasn't really the New Person she'd learned to be. She wore this "new person" uneasily, like an ill-fitting suit of armor, and she sweated and strained under its weight. And he knew that, when she finally felt permitted to drop it, the crash would be heard round what was left of the world.

"I promise, Angel. After this is over you go back to being you."

Angie's hands went to her face again as she shook her head. "I think whoever that was is long gone."

"Nope," Tyler assured her matter-of-factly as he peeled her hands down and leaned closer, "just gone into hiding. She'll be back. I'm counting on it." When her expression didn't change he coaxed, "C'mon, Angel, show me some teeth." He'd seen her smile a few more times lately, genuine smiles he knew were even rarer than his own. He figured with a little practice they might become a regular fixture, a possibility he found himself looking forward to.

Instead Angie's mouth _(I can taste that mouth even now, Tyler thought) _twisted into something like a silent snarl. "How's this? Best I can do."

"Close enough for now." _And it tastes just as good_ he acknowledged in his head as he re-formed it with a slow kiss.

* * *

"C'mon, Casanova, we've gotta do some planning for our next move."

Reluctant separation.

"Gooder, you have Real Life's gift for bad timing," Tyler grumbled.

"Blame Martin, but try not to kill him," Donovan advised, "lookouts say he's just showed up without notice, so it can't be good news."


	2. Three Statements

_17 hours later_

"Two thousand, three hundred and fifty-two email addresses, divided into three divisions of leader, auxiliary, and friendly human."

"Got the hack codes for all three levels of access."

"Got the hooks for all three types of asshole."

With those three statements, the e-raid was confirmed, and if reality depended upon obsessive focus, success would be guaranteed.

On the other hand they all knew that "plans" were delicate creatures indeed, and that the "real world", was poised to squash them at any moment.

Nonetheless Willie, New Todd, and Angie stared at one another with glazed expressions of measured success.

"Best we can do," said Todd.

"All I got in my head, " confessed Angie.

"Everything there is to use is ready, we must only resemble the parts." concluded Willie.

"Assemble," Angie whispered helpfully.

Confronted with two new allies whose histories he knew may be keeping them cautious, Todd ventured a final pronouncement, "Good to go."

The three rose as one and locked exhausted eyes as Angie concluded, "Shit, I hope so."


	3. It's all geek to me

When Angie wiped the steam from the shower room mirror, she barely recognized the face looking back at her. This time it had nothing to do with inner turmoil or what was missing that had once been part of her. It was just, plain...

"Who the fuck is _that?_" she thought as she considered her reflection.

The face was haggard, eyes bordered by dark _something_ that looked more like tattoos than anything else. Eyes so bloodshot the brown seemed to be turning mahogany. And the hair... _whatever possessed me to hack it off like that?_ Freed from the weight of its former length, it stood out in whatever direction it pleased. _I had to be a freaking philosopher_, she thought and finally muttered aloud in disgust "Shit. I look like _shit_."

"Honey we _all _look like shit. Whoever _doesn't_ look like shit gets shot as a collaborator."

Angie saw Maggie leaning into the shrinking center of the circle of mist to smirk at her. She'd been too fried even to notice anyone in the adjacent shower.

"So what's up with the Geek Squad?" Maggie inquired as she dragged a comb through her wet hair.

"You first, what's going on in the outside world?"

While Angie, New Todd, and Willie had been sequestered in the computer room, Maggie had been out scouting new camp locations with Tyler, Caleb, and Donovan.

Maggie sat on the bench built into the opposite wall and pointed to the space beside her. "I'm too beat to talk standing up." When Angie sat she continued, "The meeting with Martin wasn't good news, as if we expected any, right? The lizard bosses are fed up with guerrilla warfare and have decided to go scorched earth... a sweep along the coast to ten miles inland, about twenty miles north and south of the city. Aerial blasting along the beach, and search and destroy on land. They've already started evacuating the 'friendlies'. Whatever magic spells you geek wizards have been working on better be push-button ready and _fast._

"_Shit!_" Angie exploded in dismay. "We've figured out the code and the carriers and Todd got the app written that will disperse to all the levels of the Visitor communications that interface with us low-tech humans. Willie's pulled out and translated a few thousand of the key receivers we should hit, the rest we decided weren't worth bothering with."

"Great!" Maggie whacked Angie on the arm. "Just push the button, and sink 'em!" But her friend had dropped her head into her hands and was shaking it back and forth.

"Oh you _knew_ it couldn't be that simple..." she sat up again and looked at Maggie with a groan. "Willie had a few thousand receiver addresses he got from the data modules on a read-only display and narrowed them down a little. Very little. We got two terminals jury rigged to transmit."

Maggie wiped her hands over her face and stared at Angie. "And you're going to tell me they don't talk to each other."

"You got it. Roughly two thousand addresses to enter manually. Two terminals to enter on. Do the math."

Both women rose and dressed in silence. As Angie pulled the door open to leave, Maggie pushed it shut again.

"Look, there's gonna be another meeting later tonight but you should know now... they're gonna empty the camp tomorrow. Everybody out, nothing left behind but rubble. We're gonna do a little scorched earth of our own."

"But we're not _ready_," Angie protested.

"Better find a way to tell _them_ that," Maggie jerked her head in the general direction outside of the room. "Because the plans are all set."

The overwhelming absurdity of the situation hit Angie. On the verge of getting it done, and they were supposed to pull it all up and start over? There was no way they could disconnect, move, reconnect, it was all too fragile to begin with. She threw her head back and hooted with laughter. After a moment she looked Maggie in the eye and asked with faux-dismay, "Why is the Geek Squad _always_ the last to know?"

Maggie eyed her suspiciously. "Y'know I think Tyler's right... you _are_ crazy." But she was smiling as she opened the door and led the way into the corridor.

"He told me not long after we met that crazy is the new language," Angie recalled, then observed archly, "Might as well be fluent in that as any other."

* * *

Ham Tyler slogged to his quarters, considering what he'd heard. A coast-long lizard sweep, fifty miles more or less, born of lack of specific knowledge of the exact location of the West Coast Resistance but driven by the certainty that recent attacks had originated from the coast. Gooder's lizard contact Martin had told them as much, intelligence being shared with the others on the tactical team. Farber, who he trusted with his life and more, and Elias, whose street smarts were worth all the good intentions of most everyone else he'd encountered so far, were convinced and that was enough for him.

All of it had meant another reconnaissance expedition that had taken him, Gooder, Maggie and Caleb to the north. They'd spent the past twelve hours scouting out a series of safe points where the rebels could work their way inland and northward to where the lizards wouldn't be looking. Maps had been drawn out and lists of supplies to be acquired and transported had been assembled. They had relied on that lizard Martin's information to figure out what the safe points might be. Tyler had to admit that lizard or no, he'd never turned them the wrong way. South was a bad bet; the Mexican rebellion cells on the coast had long abandoned their positions for those to the south. The ones he'd helped to establish, Tyler remembered with a tug at his gut. Those two months had meant a lot more than tactical progress. The ways he and Angie had bound from the core since his return was proof of that.

He thought of Angie and her Geek Squad, locked up in the computer room for the last day and a half, coming up with the kinds of assault plans that Tyler couldn't hope to connect to. Oh, he'd been well schooled in the realm of high tech weapons design and guidance, the fancy tech that could predict and place where the ordnance would be the most effective, and the high tech communications that brought it all together. But the stuff that wrecked things without going "boom"… though deep down he accepted its tactical usefulness he'd never really been able to understand the process. Thing "A" triggering thing "B" to go boom made sense. But things that worked silently to cripple the high end planning, somehow they just didn't seem as real. He'd forced himself to accept their value, but for the life of him Tyler would never get to Angie's level of commitment. She gripped digital data like he gripped a gun, hard and determined and with a dead aim. The only reason she'd never insisted he learn her skills as she'd learned his is that she knew hers took longer than aim-and-shoot to deliver, so his crude understanding was enough. True mastery was for the Geeks alone.

After he'd showered and shaved (okay, _trimmed_, because removing the beard wasn't a priority) and closed the door behind him Tyler saw Angie staring fixedly in the cracked mirror that hung over the beat-up chest of drawers that had been there probably since WWII.

_Damn was she always this small? _The "boniness" he'd observed when he'd returned from Mexico seemed somehow more real, as if she'd given up something physically for every part of herself she'd had to swap for survival.

"I look like a _raccoon_," Tyler heard her whine, whether to him or herself he couldn't tell. "No, a ferret," she corrected.

He stood behind her and peered over her shoulder. "Nah. An ostrich." He stood back and looked her up and down with a serious eye, making sure she could still see his face in the mirror. "Yup. Ostrich. Definitely. Got that long scrawny neck," he approached again and ran a hand down her nape. It didn't make her shiver as it usually did, but he continued anyway, "got that knobby head," he trailed his fingers over its shape, more distinct now that it was covered with short, unruly shocks of hair that refused to agree on a common direction. He stepped back as Angie turned to glare at him, the "not funny" look nailed hard onto her face.

"_Oh _yeah... Been workin' on those beady eyes, too."

"Try badger," Angie told him as she brushed him aside. "Because I heard what's in the play book, and I am digging in."

Tyler greeted this announcement with a shrug. "Look Angel I know you and the Geek squad have a plan, and for all I can understand it, it sounds like a good one. But it'll have to wait another couple days is all. You're not the only one been working overtime here... we've got a new location ready to set up..."

Angie gestured impatiently. "Maggie told me what's going on. And the fact is that if you pull the plug now, we are back to square one. _Less _than square one, because there's no guarantee that the files we've constructed and the pathways we've tracked will survive a disconnect. Hell even the module we used, you know, the one I almost got killed for..."

"You almost got us _all_ killed for," Tyler reminded her.

"Yeah that one, well that's nothing but random pieces now that Willie's gutted it for the files we built."

Tyler threw up his hands in defeat. How could he debate something he didn't even understand? "Okay, so you can't just unplug and plug it in again. Push the right buttons before we go, end of story." The look on her face told him he was about to find out "not that easy" would be an improvement.

Angie explained, as she had to Maggie, the time consuming grunt work that could neither be avoided nor rushed.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," she lied. "Todd and me, we're total keyboard jockeys."

"Which means?" _Please make it be plain English._

"Todd bangs out 80 words a minute and _me,_" she wiggled her fingers proudly, "one hundred and ten."

Tyler couldn't believe what he was hearing. Months of battles, raids, destruction and running, and the whole shooting match was going to depend on... fucking _secretarial_ skills?

Angie took his silence for agreement. "So, you're gonna back me up at this last camp meeting whenever it is." No question mark.

"In an hour. And I don't think so." He headed her off before she could start up again with the Geek speak .

"Lady we are gonna empty this camp and what we don't take is gonna be blown up. And even if the three horsemen of the Geek Apocalypse were left behind," he took a step and glared meaningfully, "which they will _not be_, even then where do you propose to set up shop? Under the picnic tables by the lighthouse?" He turned away, discussion over. "There's crazy, and then there's _crazy_."

Angie was too tired and too set on the plan, (_their _plan, hers Willie's and Todd's, the _only_ plan they had left) to pretend to be reasonable.

"Bomb shelter, dumbo. Generators, hidden entrance, all the power we need. Why do you think we set the computer room up there to begin with? Underground, harder to trace, blah blah blah. All we need outside is that itty bitty antenna on top of the lighthouse."

_Did she just call me "Dumbo"? _ That wasn't all that pulled him up short.

"Antenna? _What_ 'antenna'? Now you're _hallucinating_."

"So you really think that sailor-with-a-spyglass weathervane is a _weathervane_?" Angie saw something she'd seldom seen: Tyler, ambushed by facts. "It's probably the only communications hardware you didn't hook up yourself. We managed it all on our little geek own."

"Okay, James Bond." Tyler threw himself into the worn armchair by the window, nearly breaking a leg off of it. "What's the _rest_ of your foolproof plan?"

_He's really, honestly, listening_. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Angie dove in and laid it all out. Short and sweet, and when she was finished even the Fixer had to admit it could work.

* * *

"But what if none of us can make it back?" Julie argued. "Assuming the stormtroopers will believe nobody's here, assuming they won't bother to blow up anything more than we do before we leave, assuming they don't already have access to the plans for the original Coast Guard training station and know about the bomb shelter..." the list could go on forever, so she finished with, "you won't know if or when it's safe to come out. Your communications are strictly one-way. What if nobody can make it back to get you?"

Willie looked at Angie and New Todd then informed the camp meeting, "We will hear the attack above ground. We will wait for three days after this. Then we will look. If they are gone, we will find our way."

"I dunno, Willie, that's not a very refined escape plan," Donovan remarked. "Don't get me wrong, the first part sounds pretty good, getting the data transferred and sending it off, sending a message to Martin when it's done. But if the sweep has already gotten this far, he can't help you. It'll be up to us, or you. No guarantees. You could end up stuck here, no way out, no vehicle, nothing."

At this, Angie smiled. "Been there, done that. All of us have. What's one more time? Besides, they think I'm dead. If the stormtroopers catch up with us I'll just say 'boo' and scare the crap out of them."

Donovan wasn't convinced. "I still don't like it." He looked straight at Tyler, who could always be counted on to support tactical logic. This time, though, he didn't disagree.

"It's a little shaky in places," Tyler acknowledged, "but it's all we got."

Chris Farber jumped in before Tyler was forced to debate further, "Kinda like this whole operation, pretty shaky but it's all we got."

Still, none of the people at the head table looked happy. Robert, Caleb, Elias, Julie, Donovan, Tyler and Farber. Not happy at all, but nobody had any better ideas.

Robert declared, "This is our last shot and if this is the only way to get it done, we have to trust the people who put it together. New information tells us it could take another two or three days for the Visitors to reach this camp. So we start packing up at dawn. Farber and Donovan will direct the demolitions. Tyler, Elias and Maggie will go on ahead and work with the fifth column to set up the new camp. Willie, Todd, Angie, will stay behind to finish the data transfer and transmissions. We'll have provisions set in the bomb shelter before we go." He stood up and took a decidedly shaky breath. "Okay guys. _Try_ to get a good night's sleep. We don't want to fall down in the home stretch."

Nobody had anything to add, so they all went to gather their temporary lives to be moved again. Win or lose, it would be for the last time.

* * *

"Tell me," Angie slurred sleepily in the dark.

"I love you, crazy or sane," Tyler whispered, but felt her head move side-to-side against him.

"No. The other thing, tell me…"

"Almost there, Angel, the other side. When we're there you can stop."

"You'll be there," she raised her head from his shoulder. "Other side."

"If I'm breathing I'll be there."

"Me too."

_Please, please, on that other side, you gotta be there._

Just far enough away from the real world and clear thinking, Angie snuggled into Tyler as close as she could, losing herself in his heartbeat and breathing and the smell of him.

_Gun oil and leather... h__ow could the smell of war have become everything I live on?_

Tyler didn't wake her when he rose before dawn. He decided it was better to leave things where they'd begun. In silence, and without questions. But never again without connection.

* * *

When Angie woke a short time later she dressed quickly and tried not to look around the room that had become the facsimile of a life she and Tyler had made for themselves. Soon it would be ashes. She hadn't expected the sharp sensation the knowledge caused her.

_No. This is just a place. It's not us, it's not beginning or ending. It's just a place._

When she grabbed her notebook from the table something fluttered to the floor. It had been tucked between the pages of notes and numbers and hastily scrawled file-trees: the torn-off cover of a bullet box. On the back was written in the crisp, severe capitals she'd seen only once before:

"See you on the other side."

Smiling, Angie jammed the scrap of cardboard in her back pocket and headed for the bomb shelter. She didn't bother to close the door.


	4. Personal Math

It had taken half a day to get everything packed up and moved out, and the other half of the day and half that night for the successive groups from the Coast Guard site to get where they were going, some nameless place in the middle of nowhere. Dirt roads up hills and into woods, far enough north and inland that the Visitor's coastal slash-and-burn patrols wouldn't even spare a thought in their direction (not that anyone was hoping and/or praying). It was a former Outward Bound base camp that had not quite fallen to ruin, somewhere in the Los Padres National Forest, or so the maps said. Better not to have a real place-name at all, just a rough direction to follow and an anonymous place to dig in, just in case. There was a reasonable communications network of Resistance cells even further out, though it would take a few more days to rig up the generators and hook into the long-abandoned transceiver systems. Tyler had determined that there was enough here to work with, and more than enough to start out with in terms of shelter and nearby water sources. Empty fuel tanks were quickly retooled and put to use. In the next day or so there would have to be yet another recon trek for supplies, but that would have to wait for the "last wave" to arrive from the old camp.

That last wave would include Farber and Donovan and the others who were blowing the old pseudo-homestead to bits. After that… nothing but the universally hated wait-and-see. Wait to get fully supplied, and see if the Geek Squad had pushed all the right buttons. And see if they got out alive. That last thought was something Tyler shoved into one of the little cells he partitioned off in the back corner of his brain where the craving for humanity and need sat waiting for the right, rare, _safe_ moments to venture out. For now, though, Tyler slammed the door tight and shot the bolt. He checked the action on his Glock and went to relieve Maggie on watch.

"Who the hell goes there?" Maggie dropped into a crouch, aiming her Steyr pistol in the direction of the nearby footsteps just beyond the circle of lantern light. New surroundings, new variables… it made her twice as twitchy as she usually was during her watch. Whatever made the sound froze in place. When she switched on the laser sigh the red pinpoint sat motionless at the center of… something. "I'm not gonna ask again."

"If you expect me to take another step when I'm wearing that little red dot dead-center, you're nuts."

"Oh for christsake…" Maggie rose and lowered the gun. "_Tyler_, you got some nerve calling _me_ nuts, sneaking around in the dark like that."

"It's my watch, genius. Feel free to stay here all night, though." Tyler was holstering his own weapon, drawn by reflex. He stepped into the sickly light; it spread into their surroundings as if the dark was sucking it right out of the cheap camp lantern at Maggie's feet.

When he she could get a better look at him, Maggie could see his offhand shrug was more of a shudder. "Relax, Tyler, I wouldn't have killed you with the _first _shot." She picked the lantern up, the better to illuminate his exaggerated smirk. "You just can't handle a woman drawing on you first, can you?"

He took the lantern from her and set it down back down a little too hard. "Never happened before."

"Hah, that's not what _I _heard," Maggie snickered as she took the thermos of coffee Tyler held in his non-trigger hand. "Gimme."

He shook his head in mock dismay and sat down on a rock. "Damn, _no_ secrets between you two, are there?"

"No more than you have." She sat next to him and poured the hot coffee into the cup from the thermos. After swilling it down Maggie filled it again and handed it to Tyler. "Admit it, you'll miss my sweetness and charm when this is all over."

He snorted as he swilled in turn. "Maybe," he grunted. After a minute or two of silence he muttered into the empty dark in front of him, "I'll be goddamned if I know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"She'd come back after you were out with those skank lizards, and I _knew_ she had more shit boiling inside than I could ever put to rest in a million years. But she'd come back, and change, and try to wash that dirt off that only she could see… there wasn't fuck-all I could do to make a difference, I knew that, so I just kept in range but let her be. Then she'd take off for a while, and the two of you would do whatever you do to keep yourselves from climbing a tower and spraying the world with gunfire. And when she came back again, well I can't say it was 'all better', but… I dunno. Whatever language you two speak that keeps you sane," now he looked Maggie in the eye, all smartass gone. "I'd pay real money for lessons… for when this is all over."

Maggie reached out impulsively to lay her hand on his arm. "C'mon. You already _know_ it. You just speak a different dialect, is all."

Tyler looked down at her hand, then up at her face. "Bullshit."

"Hey," Maggie released him and gestured with both hands, "No secrets, right? If you were so clueless don't you think I'd have heard about it by now?"

She got no reply but a grumbled "Hmph," followed by another stretch of quiet. Well not quiet, exactly… crickets and frogs and who know what else were chirping and moaning and filling the air around them with everything _except _spoken words.

Finally Tyler needled Maggie, "You gonna hang around all night? Scared to walk back to camp in the dark?"

"Please. I get the feeling I won't know _how _ to be scared by anything again, once things get back to normal."

_Normal. What is that, anyway?_

"_Normal" was like the future; nobody dared consider it in terms of anything other than the next battle, the next run for cover. That anyone still believed in "normal" was held as a closely guarded secret, a habit born of superstition and bitter experience. _

_Maggie had been terrified of "normal" since she'd lost Mark, the straight-as-an-arrow improbable love of her life. For the briefest time between meeting in war and realizing what they might have together, she'd craved a return to normal. But now the prospect of "normal" threatened her with a long, empty run of days with no adrenaline rush to focus her, no struggle for survival to distract her from the suspicion that she'd found and lost what she most needed before she ever had a chance to enjoy the life it – he – promised._

_For Tyler, "normal" was such a long-ago concept it had become entirely foreign until very recently. Even his marriage hadn't been "normal". It had been a desperate connection born of another, entirely human, war. That and the combination of his disgust with the man he'd been and his hope that marriage to someone like May Linh could make him human. Maybe even make him into the husband that May Linh had hoped he might become, if she'd lived long enough. But normal? Nothing in his life had ever felt normal until he'd stumbled __into__ the few hours snatched here and there with a crazy naïve (or maybe not so much) computer geek in the ragged refuge of a second-hand room furnished by a first-class scrounger. He wished he could feel guilty about that, for the sake of a family long dead, but the man he'd become was a less than perfect liar. Tyler looked sidelong at Maggie, suddenly aware of how alone she might be if and when anything got back to "normal". He knew equally well that he would not be alone (a little taken aback to realize he didn't want to be, not any more). He couldn't help wondering if Maggie might deserve that kind of life more than he did._

They knew each other just well enough to know when things were about to get a little too deep for people like them, so Maggie brought back wiseass with, "Speaking of scared… wanting 'language lessons' wouldn't mean you're scared you won't be able to keep up with Angie? Need a little help from her _other_ partner in crime?"

"Nah. I'd just hate to break up a high quality conspiracy by taking her away from all this."

Maggie's response was no less sincere for being kept to herself. _Thank you, love of my best friend's life._

If she'd had been a little less jumped up on stress and caffeine she might have broken down. As it was, she laughed out loud as she stood to leave then bent to kiss the one small spot on Tyler's head that was almost perfectly empty of hair. "Good luck with _that_, you bomb-throwing bastard. You're stuck with _both _of us."

Tyler nodded in quiet satisfaction and offered the "real" smile usually reserved for Angie.

"Works for me."

* * *

"Listen up, geeks! The bus is leaving and you're not on it. Last call for fresh air before lockdown."

Chris Farber had just piled the last case of bottled water in the corner of the bomb shelter. Willie had helped with the last few loads, having been relegated to the role of "support" for data entry purposes, which meant mostly making sure his friends didn't forget to eat and drink, and providing backup for bathroom breaks. As his familiarity with human entry unit (aka "keyboard") layout was less than perfect, New Todd and Angie were the Designated Keyboard Commandos for the task at hand. Since shortly after dawn they'd both been hammering away, each focused on a split display on the Visitor module screen propped up between them. New Todd's task was to enter the contact data for the Visitor operatives, and Angie's was to enter the "friendly human" contact data. Each of them had their own personal reasons for hyper-efficiency. If Chris couldn't relate to the connection between mind and pure machine, he could definitely relate to the obsession with victory regardless of the means. He was likewise aware of the inclination to ignore necessities such as food, drink, and air when thus obsessed.

New Todd barely grunted, "Yeah whatever."

Angie, being considerably older and less in the first flush of the true love of full-bore-last-chance data processing, glanced up from her work. "Huh?"

"C'mon, take a walk," Farber invited.

Willie was about to follow when his more recently refined sensitivity to human non verbal communication kicked in. "No franks, I am fine with this air," he volunteered, not _quite_ "refined" enough to assume an explanation wasn't in order. "Angie, fake a break." Truer words hadn't recently been spoken. Willie knew that New Todd was a lost cause, and couldn't be distracted.

Angie smiled affectionately at Willie. _Tyler's my heart, and Maggie's my soul, but you're… __everything__ else._

"Yahz, boss," she offered with faux-servility. "Lead on, Big Bear," she told Chris as she followed him up the stairs. "Yikes!" After even a comparatively short time in the dim light of underground computer room (lit mostly by a few odd lamps and the monitors in front of her and New Todd) the overcast sun made her squint.

"C'mon, Mole Woman," Chris reached back and grabbed Angie's hand to pull her along behind him. "Tyler's right, your eyes are gonna be square and useless in natural light before too long."

"Tyler says a lot, sounds like."

"Nah, just enough."

Angie followed Chris to the open area between the lighthouse and the main compound buildings. The bomb shelter entrance was hidden in a stand of sea grass and scrubby brush nearer the edge of the bluff that led to the beach. They wound up on in the midst of the array of permanent picnic benches that had been installed ages before, when the Coast Guard used the area for training, not for war. Chris climbed up on one, facing the beach, and when Angie sat next to him she studied him for a minute, then confessed, "I feel like I should know you better than I do."

The big man smiled and nodded as if validating some inner expectation. "Not much more you need to know, you pretty much got it on the road here." Before Angie could reply he continued, "He's right, you wonder way too much about things that got settled when you weren't paying attention."

She tried to look indignant, but he was right enough so any objection would have been lame. "Call it a weakness," she suggested. "But I'm learning to recognize what's been settled, even if I can't help wondering about it sometimes."

"You're right with that." Farber still seemed focused on the waves beyond the cliff and the horizon yet further beyond them. "You both learned a lot, in case you're wondering about that too. Even though it appears pretty settled."

It didn't take a psychic or even a shrink to decode that. Angie had always had the feeling that what Tyler might have been holding himself back from wasn't what had developed between them; maybe it was his own doubts about his ability to be a lasting part of it. His willingness, his _need, _wasn't a question. She was dead certain he loved her and that he meant what he said when he told her he'd be there with her as long as he was breathing. What Angie wondered about was whether or not he'd decide he was up to it, given his obvious opinion of who he'd been vs. who he'd become. That, she knew, was the one thing _he'd_ never stop wondering about.

"I wonder about less than you think," Angie advised Chris. "I see who you are, and who you are to each other. And I wonder less about coming between that than I do about how it all fits together."

"Uh-huh."

After that Farber said nothing else for so long that Angie thought maybe the conversation was over, so when he spoke again she almost jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Look, Angie, if anything it's him that's standing between you and me. Because Ham and me, we've been together for so long… there's no space for 'getting between'. Like there's no space between you and him for getting between. Maybe it's Ham with me on the one side and you on the other, all locked up with nowhere to go except all together, even if it's not all at the same time or in the same direction."

_God damn, he makes more sense than Tyler and me on our best day, if we ever find one._

"So tell me," Angie inquired, knowing Farber would navigate the verbal segue without batting an eye, "How come you never call me 'Angel'."

Chris's matter-of-fact laughter rumbled out to sea. "Same reason he doesn't call me 'Big Bear'. Some names belong to whoever gave them to you, right?"

As usual, Angie bowed to unassailable logic. "Right, and right." She cast a glance behind them, where the last few vehicles were waiting. "Look…" she didn't get any farther before the Big Bear of a man wrapped an arm around her.

"Yeah, me too," he told her. "Bang them keyboards and we'll see you later. You got five minutes to lock down before we hit the button and it all goes up."

Suddenly overcome by the reality of what might (or might not) happen, Angie threw her arms around Chris Farber and planted a mighty kiss on him. "You bet your big hairy ass I'll see you on the other side… of Tyler and everything else."

Neither one looked back as they went their separate ways: Farber to join the departing caravan where the detonator waited for his mark, and Angie to descend to the dimly lit place where she and her friends would "save the world".

Or not.


	5. Weapons and promises

"Truck's here!" Elias called from the admittedly short lookout tower as the slat-sided pickup rumbled up the dirt road toward the camp. Given its position on a hill, the tower didn't have to be much more than six feet in height to allow a pretty fair view of the one road and few paths that led into the newly-established rebel compound. Elias jumped to the ground, not bothering with the ladder. Only a couple of days had passed since they arrived to set up their new headquarters, but the rebels had had to travel light and supplies were… well they were in _short_ supply. This was the first truckload of food, fuel for the generator, and ammunition that had arrived. More would come from other places at other times.

Climbing out of the truck's cab was a young, rough looking man in blue jeans and a tattered plaid shirt. _Hillbilly_ Elias thought to himself but didn't say it out loud. Not only because the other guy in the truck bed held a formidable shotgun… but it helped. Elias too was armed, of course, but why get into a fight with the locals? "Local" being a relative term. Ham Tyler and Mike Donovan had managed to hook into a loose network that ran quite a ways out in the wilderness, most of them equipped with short-range radios that linked only to their nearest contact. Though the reason for that was mostly limited technical capability this far out in the middle of nowhere, the fact was it was also safer that way. Less random signals for the wrong parties to catch, and if anyone did get picked up by a Visitor patrol it was a lot harder to trace them to another group.

"Don't suppose you got some beer in the back for me, huh?" Even after a short time at the new place, waiting for what would (or wouldn't) come next was taking its toll and bad jokes were the current remedy. For the life of him, Elias couldn't remember the names of these two backwoods scroungers.

"Drank it on the way," joked the driver, "but Jimmy and me, we got something better. Not just bullets and food and kerosene, either. Show the man, Jimmy," he circled to the tailgate-less rear of the pickup, where Jimmy (_that's one name down_, Elias thought gratefully) seemed to be poking at something with his weapon.

"Get up, goddamnit, or I'll blow you away right here and these nice people will have to pick lizard bits out of their rice and beans."

Elias joined the driver (_Jay! Brothers, Jimmy and Jay!_ he remembered inwardly) but cases and bundles obscured the other man and whoever he was threatening.

A groan, a shifting sound… _damn, that groan sounds familiar…_ and Elias nearly passed out when the battered figure was jerked to his feet and shoved out of the truck bed to fall hard in the dirt. It didn't have to turn over for Elias to know.

"_Willie?_" Elias dropped to his knees and carefully rolled Willie onto his back. Willie's clothing was ragged and dirty, his face smeared with green blood. Scales gleamed darkly on his face, hands, and forearms through various tears in his artificial skin. "Jesus, Willie what _happened?_"

Not waiting for an answer (in any case at the moment Willie was beyond human speech) and without getting to his feet Elias hollered, "_Julie! Mike! Get out here fast!"_ He turned back to Willie, trying to determine how badly he was hurt. The latter was clearly in some sort of shock, and though it appeared he recognized his friend he seemed unable to speak. He was, however, able to clutch Elias's sleeve in one beaten hand.

Jimmy and Jay stood watching in disbelief. "You _know_ this lizard?" Jimmy asked, voice full of suspicion, and made the unwise move of poking Willie again with the muzzle of his shotgun.

"Put it away, he's one of us!" Elias snapped. When they didn't move back he told them angrily, "he joined us in L.A. Put it away!" he shouted again, nodding toward the gun.

Mike and Julie, followed by some others, were approaching at a dead run, armed and ready to repel an attack. Ham Tyler, who had been out of sight nearby, stepped up as if from nowhere and jerked the shotgun out of Jimmy's hand, nearly breaking the man's wrist in the process.

"You heard the man, put it _away_." Tyler flung the shotgun into the brush about ten feet away. Then he, too, dropped to one knee in the dirt.

"Shit, Willie, what the hell happened to you?" As Willie's eyes struggled to focus they rested for a moment on the two strangers. Tyler was up in a heartbeat, one dirty shirt clutched in each fist, two stunned brothers pulled nearly into the air. "_You_ did this?" Jay and Jimmy shook their heads in unison (and alarm).

"_No,_ man, he was messed up when we found him!"

"Well we'll ask him ourselves, when he can talk," Tyler glowered, dropping the two men abruptly and turning away as they struggled to keep from falling on their asses. By now Julie was kneeling over Willie, speaking to him with quiet urgency as Mike approached the two brothers. In spite of themselves they shrank back a bit.

"Look, like Jay told the Terminator here, he was like this when we found him." Jimmy pointed over his shoulder back in the direction they'd come from. "About ten, fifteen miles back. He was practically crawling, the only thing he said was 'new camp' and he passed out. We figured he was a spy, or some advance patrol."

If Willie didn't look so halfway-dead Donovan might have found it amusing. "One guy, beat to shit, on his hands and knees… _alone_. And you two thought he was an 'advance patrol'? Forgive me if I hope there's smarter help than you around here, or we could be doomed."

"I don't think anything's broken," Julie was saying, "Elias, Mike, you, and you," she pointed to a couple of other rebels standing around, "help me get him into the infirmary. _Careful_," she chided as they lifted Willie between them. She leaned between Elias and Mike, gently running her fingers across the cuts on Willie's forehead, "It's okay, Willie, you're safe now, you'll be fine."

As they cautiously bore Willie to the building that was once the camp medical unit (finally, an infirmary that had been designed for the purpose), Tyler followed, trailed in turn by the truck driving brothers who still didn't quite know what to think but were not about to make any more stupid moves.

"What the _hell _happened?" Tyler muttered, shaking his head. "Did he say anything at all?" he asked aloud, figuring the one who had been riding in back to keep an eye on the "spy" might have heard something worth knowing.

"Nothing, just 'new camp'," Jimmy insisted. "What were we _supposed_ to think? One of them, out here, knowing about you guys."

Tyler stopped short and the other two almost collided with him.

"One of _us_, asshole. He's one of us. More than _you_ two will ever be." Then he ignored them, continuing to the infirmary where he'd wait impatiently to hear what went down at the coast... in spite of not being sure he wanted to know.

* * *

**The Coast Guard compound, nine hours earlier**

_"WILLIEEEEEEE!" The shrill horror of Angie's scream couldn't compete with the whine and roar of the unseen Visitor weapons that were vaporizing everything around them. Everything was obscured by dust and smoke and bolts of fatal lightning, and Willie had been too far away not to disappear in the chaos._

After the final names had been entered, the final "send" commands clicked with remarkable lack of ceremony, all anyone wanted to do was get some fresh air. Nothing had been heard above ground, so the Geek Squad unbolted the door and crept out of their burrow. The sun was bright, the breeze so pleasant, they could hardly remember why they were there. For a few minutes, anyway.

"Not too long," Willie warned, casting worried eyes toward every horizon. "We do not know when they will come. But they _will_ come." After too few moments in the sun, New Todd cocked his head.

"You hear that?"

Angie had been straining to hear the calls of the sea birds. Odd that there weren't any to be heard, they always were crying and calling to one another… right now there was just a weird, thin whine in the distance.

Suddenly Willie seemed to jump inside his skin. "Inside!" he shouted in alarm, "flight weapons!"

And then the sun disappeared as the world began exploding around them. Todd grabbed Angie's hand and spun them around to run for the bomb shelter door, but Willie headed a few feet in the opposite direction, trying to determine from which direction the sky fighters would attack. True to their plans, they would strafe the entire area and then send in ground troops to destroy anything (or anyone) that survived.

Angie screeched to a halt. "Willie, come back! _WILLIEEEEEEE!_" By then it was too late, there was no way of knowing where he was or even if he _could_ come back.

"C'mon, he'll be all right!" Todd shouted, physically dragged her to the bomb shelter door and shoved her in. Angie was halfway down the eight steps when there was another blast nearby, and she was knocked the rest of the way down by Todd flying past her. He hit the floor hard and skidded to a stop, lying on his side and facing her with a strange expression.

"Door," he croaked.

Angie raced up the stairs and slammed and bolted the thick steel door in place. "How do you _know _he'll be all right?" she was protesting as she trotted back down into the shelter. Todd was still lying on the floor, looking weird but saying nothing. "Okay, I get it, he's probably better at it than we are, but I'm gonna listen real hard for him," she looked up over her shoulder toward the door. "He's _gotta_ be all right."

When Todd didn't comment, or get up, she went to where he lay, dropped to the floor next to him and teased, "C'mon, you can cut the drama now, we're safe in here as long as they're in the sky." But he was gasping, his face a pale grey and eyes struggling to focus on her. "What the…" she muttered. _The fall must have knocked the wind out of him._

It wasn't until he rolled forward against her that Angie saw the long, deep hole burnt in Todd's back. There was no blood. Whatever hadn't been vaporized was a seared, shiny hollow, as if the back of his torso had been scooped out and lined with black glass.

"Ohgodohgodoh_god,_" she hyperventilated, "_Todd_," Angie rolled him back as carefully as she could, just a bit so she could see his face. He didn't look like he was in pain, or was even aware he'd been hurt, but what was left of his lungs were fighting for air. They stared at one another in shock. _No, it's all almost over... it's not fair! _

Just when Angie had almost convinced herself it wasn't really happening, Todd's eyes widened and he called to her. But he didn't say her name.

"Mom?" It was a ragged, vague whisper.

_ohgod_

Against all belief he managed to speak again. "_Mom!_" This time it sounded desperate; his eyes were open but Angie knew he couldn't see anything now.

"Right here, I'm right here," she told him, keeping her voice steady by some unfathomable miracle. "I'm right here, it's okay." She braced him with one arm under his undamaged shoulders, her other hand spread alongside his face, the way Tyler did when he was trying to calm her down. _Tyler… why didn't Reno pass on something for this, why? _

"...sorry, Mom, sorry," who knew where the words came from, they were so faint. The last of the adrenaline had burnt off, or whatever it is that keeps you alive when when your body is beyond hope but doesn't know enough to stop.

What had he said in some random moments when they'd been able to spare a few seconds to pretend they were getting to know one another? He'd been something of a pain in his parent's ass. But what kid hadn't?

"_No_," Angie scolded fiercely, lost in the moment in spite of herself, in spite of everything, "_don't_ you be sorry, don't you _dare_. You did so good…" now she leaned down, pressed a kiss between the blind eyes, "I'm _so proud_ of you, Todd, you did _so good_…" She repeated it over and over, not wanting to stop as long as he could hear her. She closed her own eyes, feeling like a voyeur, not wanting to watch him disappear because remembering him pounding feverishly on the keyboard seemed somehow more generous.

Then, strangely… there was nothing. No sudden shudder, no last hiss of breath escaping one final time. The change came silently, when she knew she was alone.

Then a last brutal blast shook the shelter and knocked out the generator, turning the world black. Angie didn't care. There was nothing more to see anyway.

She managed to inch Todd over to where she knew the lone "rest cot" (never used) was, and lifted him onto it as gently as she could, then sat on the floor with her back against the wall. She groped under the cot until she found the blaster rifle she'd left there, and pulled it out to lay across her lap. With the other hand she reached into her back pocket and pulled out the torn piece of cardboard: _S__ee you on the other side._

That's where the patrol found Angie when they blew the door in a day later: sitting motionless in the dark, one hand aiming the deadliest of weapons, the other clutching a promise she no longer believed anybody could keep.


	6. Go back

"We must go back."

* * *

The words were spoken with surprising strength, considering the fact that the speaker had appeared near death just hours earlier.

Julie leaned over her unwilling patient, gently pushing him back. "Willie, lie down. I'm not even sure if I've done the right things to help you. We need a little more time to be sure."

"I was dry. I was too hot. You gave me water and I am crueler now."

_Cooler._ Julie knew when correction was irrelevant. "That's true, but I don't know what else was damaged."

"I do. Our bodies tell us, we know when we are in danger. I am not. Nothing inside has token. I know I am well enough."

Julie sat back and struggled to find a response that would satisfy Willie. All any of them could surmise from his sudden appearance and few labored words was that he'd escaped moments before the Visitor aerial attack had happened. To those who knew him it was a given that Willie's presence here was the result of timing and his own survival skills. No other news had come to the rebel camp; events had simply outrun their newborn communications network's ability to transmit them.

"Okay, I trust you to tell me if something is broken inside. But go back? From what you've told us it's been just over a day since the aerial attack, and we know they planned a followup with ground forces a day after that. Martin hasn't given us any news; it's just too dangerous to go with no new information."

Willie sat up again, ignoring Julie's restraining hand. "You do not understand. We must go back. Todd and Angie are there. No news is good news, yes?" He used the human cliché knowing it was a weak argument.

"No," Julie sighed. "in this case no news is bad news. If we send anyone back and the Visitor troops are there, they'll be able to trace us."

"You believe they are dead." It was obvious Willie didn't believe it.

"I don't know. I just know we have to go according to plan, or all of us, everyone who has a stake in this, we could _all_ be dead. Willie, please," Julie found herself begging, for forgiveness or whatever else she wasn't sure, "I know what you're saying, I know what you're _feeling_. But you know what's at stake. We can't risk it all for two people." In spite of the war-logic that she'd managed to internalize, her voice caught on the words.

Willie nodded in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. "I understand, Julie. But we cannot leave them there. Whatever has happened, we must go back."

There was some military motto, divorced from the real world but clung to nevertheless: nobody gets left behind. How arrogant was it to believe it was only a human motto?

"I don't know, Willie." She tried to believe it was a poor decision driven by emotion that negated logic. But Julie had to admit to herself that, despite Willie's obvious devotion to his friends and to their shared cause, she really had no idea of what drove _any_ Visitor's idea of emotion. Or what might trump their version of hard logic. Willie's pained, intense gaze trumped her own logic.

Gently pressing him back down she told him, "Okay. I'll talk to the others. But no guarantees, understand?"

Willie's hesitant smile expressed both understanding and an attempt to ease Julie's concern. "Oh-kay. Humans have told me, nothing is guaranteed except taxes." He purposely left out "and death," thus cementing forever his connection with Julie and her belief in him. She squeezed his hand, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

"I'll do my best."

* * *

_The other side… I wonder what it means? Black, silent, smelling like death and decay? No gun oil and leather. Well it's not as if he told me what the "other side" would smell like. Strange…_

… at a distance, she heard her name.

"Angie! Angie Harper… Todd! Are you in there?"

Serial explosions outside jarred her from her thoughts_. _

_So… this is how it ends. It is what it is. Fine… fuck 'em all._

Struggling to her feet, Angie raised the blaster rifle and swept as she'd been taught by the Fixer.

_Sweep, don't aim, and you're bound to hit something._ If it worked with an Uzi, it could work with this.

"_Fuck off and die!" _Angie screamed as the first silhouette in the blown-out doorway was cut down. Despite the shock and blindness of the sudden flood of light she shot wildly around the shelter and stood, braced shaking against the wall, waiting for whatever might come next.

* * *

Mike Donovan lay where he'd fallen, clutching his smouldering left shoulder. "Wait!" he demanded of Martin, who stood over him ready to launch a second attempt to enter the bomb shelter. He lay there for a moment or two more to catch his breath and figure out what to do next. Angie obviously was ready to kill whoever came through the door, which meant she and Todd had given up on the idea of rescue. He dragged himself to his feet.

"Are you sure it's her?" Martin asked. He'd heard enough of Angie to appreciate her efforts, but he had no idea if she'd survived the Visitor bombardment. The ground force attack that his transport had interrupted might or might not have been the first, and might or might not have left Donovan's friends alive. Willie had insisted the shelter was impervious to the Visitor versions of conventional assault. Martin didn't harbor similar confidence.

"Oh yeah, that's her for sure," Donovan advised Martin as he got to his feet. "Just trust me, I know that voice." _I sure know that __tone__ of voice, anyway._

"So what do you suggest?"

"Shout out again, and stand back." Donovan approached the entrance to the shelter. "Angie? It's Mike… I mean Gooder. I know you've wanted to shoot me for a long time. So now that you have, can I come in and get you outta here? Because if I don't, Tyler won't miss when he gets his chance."

No response. He peered cautiously into the doorway. The room below was illuminated now that the breakers, jolted off by the last Visitor attack, had been reset. "I'm here with Martin and his people… we're gonna take you back to camp."

_Oh, shit._

Donovan's first good look was of Angie braced against the back wall, weapon rigidly aimed. There was a still figure lying on a cot next to her. Though Mike hadn't ever taken much notice of the kid around camp, he figured it had to be that high school techno-wonder Todd, the one that Willie and Angie had teamed up with to do the final digital deed. He couldn't help wondering how long she'd been sitting here in the dark with him. He started down the stairs, but the look on Angie's face stopped him in his tracks quicker than any fear of her weapon could have done. It was empty of everything human.

"Hey, it's okay, we're here to help."

Since her expression (and aim) didn't waver, Donovan flattened against the wall as he descended another step or two. "Angie, we're here to get you out."

She took a step forward, blaster still leveled. "Mike?" Her voice matched her expression... it didn't sound human. It didn't sound like a _voice_... more like a struggle for air.

"Yeah," he rubbed his scorched left shoulder, not expecting an apology at the moment, "Martin's got a transport outside."

Martin came down behind Donovan, followed by a couple more of Fifth Columnists. "We don't have much time," he advised.

Mike descended the next few steps and stood a few feet from Angie. "C'mon, we gotta go before they come back." Angie looked confused.

"We can't leave him here, " her voice was as dry as torn paper.

"Mike! Move it!" Martin called from the door he'd returned to as he scanned the surroundings outside.

Donovan turned back to Angie, whose expression had flattened from confusion to something else.

"I'm not gonna leave him here, " she rasped, and her grip on the blaster tightened.

"Yo Martin, coupla guys down here," Donovan called over his shoulder, "We have somebody else to transport."

"I don't think so," Martin began as he leaned into the bomb shelter doorway, changing his mind as he took in the scene below. "Okay, go down," he instructed two of his crew members, "give them a hand."

The two Visitors went into the shelter and followed Donovan's directions to pick up Todd's body and carry him to the transport.

Donovan approached Angie a step at a time. "Okay, we've got him now," he took another step. "Let's go."

They'd never gotten along very well or agreed on much of anything, and seeing Angie in her current state of - _who the hell knows _- Mike wasn't entirely certain she wouldn't fry him where he stood.

Still, he reached for the blaster rifle and suggested, "Why don't you give me that." She pulled it back protectively. Looking her in the eye, he took hold of the barrel, and gave it a tug. "C'mon... gimme a break. You've punched me out, you've shot me down, just this once don't give me a hard time, okay? Besides, you don't need it anymore." Though she looked as if she didn't quite believe him, Angie tried to hand it over, with great difficulty, finally offering a look that was equal parts puzzlement and despair. Her hands seemed permanently locked in place.

"I can't."

"That's okay, I got it." Carefully he unwrapped her fingers from the weapon and took it from her, then led the way up the stairs. "Let's get the hell outta here."

When they stepped outside into the daylight Angie winced and covered her face.

"Here," a Visitor visor was slipped over her eyes. "It is okay, Angie, we will take you home now."

"Home?" The word was fraught with hope and disbelief.

"To our friends."

Angie's eyes focused for just a second. _"Willie?" _The faintest of whispers, weakened by dehydration and shock.

"Yes."

Nobody could move quickly enough to catch her as she fell to the ground in a dead faint.


	7. Almost

Angie woke in the same cot where Willie had recently lain, being treated for much the same things as he had been: dehydration and shock.

"Angie, it is okay. You are safe."

"Willie, you got out…" She reached for his hand, still disoriented. "How did you..."

"I ran, and found the new camp." He left out the details of falling, crawling, being picked up by humans who believed him to be a spy, who beat him and threw him in the back of their truck to bring to the rebels as a trophy. He left out the fact that he hadn't revealed the lies of the men who'd delivered him, because he believed they knew no better than to do what they did.

"Todd?" Angie struggled to sit up as she pulled on Willie's hand.

"We brought him back with us. He will be honored, not forgotten."

"Welcome back." Julie appeared, smiling, leaning down to adjust the i.v. Angie had barely noticed. "Just something to get you hydrated," she explained, "you were down about a quart and we don't want you to run dry."

"Uh-huh. I don't remember eating or drinking anything…" she recalled, hesitated, then finished, "down there."

"Even before, while Angie and Todd worked," Willie began, paused on the name, then continued with a cautious glance at Angie, "they must be fed and watered, like the lab animals." This drew a weak smile from Angie.

"Yeah, Willie," she told him, "you're a great keeper." Suddenly she grabbed his hand. "I'm so glad you got out, I'm so glad one of us got out!"

"_Two_ of you got out," Julie corrected. Angie's face lapsed into blankness.

"Yeah," she commented vaguely, "I guess."

In the seconds of silence that followed, Willie rose to leave. "You must rest, and I must help to find out if anything has happened yet." Angie hadn't let go of his hand. "It is all right, Angie. I got out, and you got out. We could not help Todd." He squeezed her hand in what he understood to be a human gesture of support; in honesty such things didn't seem very alien to him anymore. "I am sorry I could not bring help sooner."

Angie shook her head and released his hand. "It wouldn't have mattered."

As Willie left, Julie took his place in the camp chair next to the cot and filled a glass with water from a pitcher on the small table nearby. "Here. Now that you're awake we can take out the i.v., but you're still pretty dehydrated. Keep drinking as much as you can until you're feeling back to normal."

"Normal," Angie mumbled, "yeah sure."

Julie noticed her glancing out the window on the other side of the small room. "Tyler's gone with Maggie and Elias to pick up supplies. We're stretched pretty thin, still setting up, trying to get communications set, and could only spare Mike to go Willie and Martin and his people to the old camp…"

"It's okay, Julie," Angie interrupted. "I know why he wasn't there. You know how he is, he'd have had to run point." Julie looked puzzled, so she explained, "He'd have been the first one to find me. Either way. Understand?"

That Tyler might be the first to discover Angie's _body_ was something Julie hadn't considered. In fact there were a number of thoughts about Angie and Tyler's relationship that even their closest comrades backed away from, as if doing anything else would be an invasion of privacy.

"Yeah," she nodded at last, "I do. Now _drink_, or he'll find you alive but shriveled to the bone, and I'd rather not be left holding _that_ bag, thanks. Here, let's get rid of the extra plumbing." She reached for the instrument tray next to the water pitcher, and set about removing the i.v. after her patient sat up and took the glass from her.

Angie drank carefully, remembering how she'd gulped that first water Tyler had offered her a lifetime ago. And how it had come right back up again.

"There," she offered the empty glass with exaggerated pride. "All gone."

Julie grinned and took it from her. "Good _start_." She set the glass down on the table and turned back to face Angie. "I told Mike and Robert it's too soon for an 'official' debriefing. But do you feel up to telling me what happened after the attack started?" She misread Angie's hesitation as exhaustion and shock. "If you'd like to wait until later that's fine."

"No," Angie told her after a moment. "It's okay, there's not much to tell. But I can give tell you all about it right now, no need to wait for one of those official meetings."

Then, she did tell Julie all about it… almost.

* * *

The converted pickup truck rattled and bounced over the dirt road. Tyler wrestled two-handed with the wheel, inwardly cursing the US Forestry department whose "management" had long ago left the access tracks in the kind of shape the Visitors would have been proud to claim credit for. Maggie's hands were clamped firmly on the door handle and whatever part of the dashboard she could grip; in back, Elias held on to the sides of the truck bed for dear life and prayed not to be crushed by the shifting cargo. When the radio, an old-school police model, crackled to life, Maggie was reluctant to give up even one handhold to grab the handset.

"Well you don't expect _me_ to get it, do you?" Tyler barked as he managed (not) to avoid yet another knot of roots that jutted up from nowhere. "Christ if we get back with all four wheels it'll be a fucking miracle."

Maggie dug her right hand harder into the door handle and snatched the mic up with her left. As she depressed the "talk" button another jolt almost smacked the handset into her face. "_Shit_ Tyler, where'd you learn to drive, demo derby?" Into the mic she shouted "_What?_ I mean, Gopher 2, what? Over."

"Hey, Badger 3, relay from the burrow, over." a voice struggled through the static. Maggie rolled her eyes. Gophers, badgers, burrows... these codes names were just _embarrassing_. Bunch of frustrated Boy Scouts, probably. Then she corrected herself internally as she considered the raging mercenary at the wheel. _Nah, probably frustrated crazy hunters fantasizing about mowing down Bambi with an Uzi._

"Copy Badger, go ahead, over."

Another explosion of static followed, then the response, "Big Bear says 'the angel has landed', repeat, 'the angel has landed'." The crackling voice added, most un-commando-like, "whoever the fuck they are… over."

Maggie shot a wide grin at Tyler, who had managed to stop cursing just long enough to hear. Even a camera couldn't have done justice to the look that replaced the scowl.

"You bet your backwoods ass we copy!" Maggie shouted into the mic. "And none of your damn business who the fuck they are! Gopher 2, over and out." She missed the handset mount and let the mike drop and dangle at the end of it's coiled cord. "Hey Elias!" she screamed out the window over the noise of the engine and bouncing suspension, "they're back and breathing!"

"Great," Elias shouted back, bracing stacked cases of canned goods with one foot, "hope I'm the same by the time _we_ get back!"

Maggie fell back in her seat, not caring any more how she was thrown around. She looked over at the no-longer cursing or scowling Tyler.

"Still breathing," he announced, "both of us. Works for me."

* * *

The truck pulled into camp after midnight. Maggie helped Elias – slightly battered, but mostly viable – out of the truck bed as Tyler gave the makeshift "manifest" to several rebels who'd unload, inventory, store the supplies away. With a weary wave of his hand he parted company with the others and headed for the infirmary.

One low light was burning inside as Tyler entered. The three cots were empty, nobody else to be seen.

Julie's drowsy voice came from a dark corner. "She's been assigned quarters."

For the first time in memory he was too tired to react according to training. "Hey doc. You protecting the band-aids, or don't you rate your own quarters?"

Julie stepped slowly into the circle of lamplight, wiping sleep from her eyes. "I was reviewing some medical journals and I guess I fell asleep."

"They still publish them?"

She laughed blearily. "Still catching up from med school. I can't shake the idea that I gotta keep up for exams." She looked Tyler up and down. "You look like you got dragged _behind_ the truck."

"Yeah well I feel like I got dragged _under_ it."

"You got the message? We figured you and Maggie and Elias would want to know." She motioned to one of the nearby camp chairs as she sat down.

Tyler declined, "Nah, if I sit down I won't get up til tomorrow. Yeah, it made it up the relay. I thought she'd be here."

"She was, but only a few hours. She was mostly dehydrated, a few bumps and bruises she got when she passed out before they got her on the transport. She's fine, physically." The last word held more than average weight.

Over time, Tyler and Julie had developed an understanding born of mutual respect, and the knowledge that each had a little insight into the other that didn't bear open discussion. It just was what it was, accepted by both.

"But," he replied. No question mark.

Julie shook her head, perplexed. "I'm not sure. I put off any sort of 'debriefing' with Mike and Robert, but she did give me the basics of what she said happened after the attack started."

"'What she said happened'… you saying you think she left something out?"

"Nothing in terms of intelligence, no, but when she told me about Todd…" Julie trailed off, realizing that Tyler had no idea that Todd had been killed. "Sorry… you don't know. Todd was killed in the Visitor attack, just as he and Angie were getting to the shelter."

Tyler's fog of exhaustion was burnt off by an explosion of frustration. "Ah, _shit!_ Goddammit, the kid was just a computer jockey!" _Just like Angel._

Julie waited until Tyler had calmed down before she went on. "Well that's what I think Angie is leaving out… something about Todd. She told me they were running into the shelter, and he got hit by one of the aerial blasts as they got to the door. It knocked him past her all the way down the steps. From the looks of the wound it was some high-level type of Visitor weapon, it…" Julie frowned, remembering the black glassy, hollow left in the teenager's back, "let's just say it was different than what we've seen before. Anyway, she told me he was dead by the time she got to him."

"And you don't believe her." He took a step forward, not liking what he was hearing. "You think she's lying about how the kid died?"

"_No_ of course not. Not the way you mean, anyway. It's how and _when_ he died I think she left out. Like I said, it's not intelligence related, and it's not really any of my business, but whatever it is I know it's bad, and I know it has to be affecting her. Okay, I don't know how _I'd_ be after sitting for a day and a half in a dark hole next to a dead kid I'd worked side by side with for the past two days, but I know wouldn't be so… _okay_." She rose from her chair when she saw Tyler's questioning expression replaced with something else. "I'm making sense, aren't I?"

"Perfect. Can't say I know what to do about it, but yeah, you're making sense." He disguised a sigh with a wide yawn. "So… where's home now?" He'd been bunking in the barracks-like men's dorm, though there were half a dozen cabins that housed two bunks each. It wasn't that he'd craved the company of his fellow rebels, exactly, but it was preferable to an otherwise-empty room. Makeshift or no, he'd become used to rooms that were less than empty.

"Cabin 3, other side of the dorms. And look, I haven't told anyone else about, well, about my 'suspicions'. She probably wouldn't even want me to tell you, but…"

He smiled grimly. "Yeah, 'but'. Like I said... as well as I know her, I don't know what I can do about it. Or maybe it's knowing her so well that gets in the way."

"Hate to be the one to break it to you, Tyler, but in this case you're the only game in town."

"Just her luck, huh?" he commented, leaving without saying goodnight.

Julie shook her head, smiling, as he left. "We should all be so lucky," she whispered after him, then killed the lamp and went to collapse in her own bed.

* * *

Tyler grabbed a quick, hot shower in the communal wash building and dumped the most offensive of his filthy clothes in the trash. He'd have burned his socks then and there, but figured the smoke would've killed every living thing within ten miles. He shook the loose dust out of his jeans and, donning just them and his boots, he trudged off to find Cabin 3. He slipped in quietly, closing the door softly behind him.

There was a dim lamp burning like the one he'd seen in the infirmary, except this one sat not on the table but on the floor to one side of the room. Two empty bunk frames were pushed against the wall, and it took a minute for him to locate where the mattresses had been laid in the corner, not far from the lamp. He took off his boots, and knelt down to look more closely at the bundle of bedclothes. Instead of just the top of her head this time the pale, narrow oval of Angie's face was visible. Her eyes were wide.

"You're back," she whispered.

He smiled and reminded her, "I'm still breathing, aren't I?"

"Me too." She wasn't smiling. She shut her eyes as he stroked a hand along her forehead and spread it against the side of her face.

"Angel," he began, then leaned down to kiss her temple. As he reached back to kill the lamp, Angie's eyes snapped wide again.

"Leave it on!" she gasped.

_A day and a half in a dark hole next to a dead kid..._

"Sure." Still kneeling over her, he told her, "I'm sorry about that new kid."

"Todd."

"Yeah, him." Tyler had found it hard to refer to this kid by the same name as… that other one. He was about to ask something more when he saw the sad, bruised expression on her face, the one he'd seen before that told him that nothing anyone said or did could change the way things were. The one that it killed him to see because he couldn't fix what put it there. Not bothering to take off his jeans, he slid under the covers beside her and she reached for him as she'd done so many other times when he'd come back after a long hard day. This time, though, she wasn't purring or smiling in her sleep. Her eyes were still wide, and she was trembling. He gathered her tightly against him and pressed his mouth against her ear.

"It's okay, Angie... you can stop now."

Whatever had been inside her that had kept her separate from everything she'd seen, and done, and lost in this New World gave way.

"Are we there yet?" she cried quietly into his skin, "the other side?"

"Close enough," he promised, "I'll take us the rest of the way."

She cried, wordless and nearly soundless, for hours, lost to everything but the sensation of Tyler surrounding her, holding her safe and separate from the New World.

He knew what she finally, _finally_ was mourning. It wasn't just what she'd lost, or realized, or had to do. It wasn't even everyone who didn't make it. Tyler knew as well as he knew Angie that what ruptured that last barrier was who _almost_ made it.

_Almost_. It was the dirtiest word in the human language, and the most brutal casualty of war.


	8. Something to do

Angie's purging-by-tears ended as quietly and abruptly as it had begun, as if whatever had been held back simply ran dry. As if some faucet had been left open too long. Like a faucet, it began only when she allowed it to, and ran dry only when there was nothing left.

Tyler knew this wasn't something he could have helped with; it wasn't a fixing kind of thing. All he could offer was a safe place for her to open up and let go. She was able to do it now because she knew that she could, that it was okay and nobody would suffer for it. And because he'd told her so. That might have bothered him, if he hadn't known so well that what Angie had been waiting for wasn't his permission, or anyone else's. She just wanted a signal, because it was something she didn't trust herself to recognize on her own. He'd promised to tell her when it was time, and he did.

The lamp was burning low at the same time the corner of the nearby window began to lighten. That was when he felt a last small movement in her, as if she were squeezing out the last drop. He traced his fingers along the back of her head and flattened the other hand on her back. Then he heard it… that whispery sigh.

Tyler loved that sound, because it made him feel like a normal human being. Like a million other guys in a million other lives before the invasion, and now, who dropped into bed dead beat and had their souls handed back to them by their own sleeping angels. A normal human being ... that was someone he'd never been, even while he'd been married to the love of his life in the middle of another war. This was a new life, and the war was probably ending, and there was a new love to fit it, and Ham Tyler was a man new enough to fit both of them. Tyler had at last come to recognize that what made this love different was that he'd been ready when it fell on top of him. This time he'd been the man who could understand why it was important, and was smart enough to grab on (like Angie grabbed on in the middle of the night, sleeping but conscious). The man he was before had _wanted_ this kind of humanity, and his wife had known that he did. She'd waited patiently, for him, back then, to become what he was now because she'd loved him and had felt what he was stumbling toward would be worth the wait. But timing could be a real asshole. Because Tyler had finally grown up and grown wise(r) the only guilt he had left for his lost wife was that he couldn't tell her back then that the wait would be too long. His wife had deserved the man he was now, as much as Angie did. But she'd waited patiently, and Angie hadn't had to. Angie loved him, but she _knew_ him in a way Mai Linh had not. Angie had gotten right up in his face instead of waiting. Her doubts and anger and fear were right there for him to see; he couldn't tell if it was because she wasn't trying hard enough to hide them, or if he'd grown up (and wise) enough to bother to see them on his own. Whichever it was, the more she dared him to walk away, the more impossible it became to consider doing it.

_Shit. Sleep deprivation has lowered me to philosophy. Again. _

Angie had relaxed enough against him for Tyler to be able to bundle her to the side and slip out of bed without waking her. It was light in the cabin now and he found his stuff where she'd stacked it under the window. He dumped the dirty jeans for clean and was thinking about getting some coffee at that boy-scout size mess house when he heard it again. Angie's soft exhale, backed by the quietest of sounds; he could see a stirring in the corner. Tyler crossed the small room in two steps and knelt at the edge of the pallet, because he didn't want her to reach for him and find nothing. He got there just in time for her hand to fall open against his knee. As she sank back into sleep again and Tyler saw that tiny vertical furrow smooth from her forehead, he decided coffee could wait. There was enough room for him to sit up next to her with his back against the wall. No surprise when she rolled against him and wrapped her arms around his legs, head resting on his hip. He laid his hand on her head, leaned his own back against the wall, and shut his eyes.

* * *

_Almost there, Angel. _Where they'd go and what they'd do was anybody's guess. That was the hardest thing to plan for. Running and fighting and the rush and plan for survival had been the center of Ham Tyler's life for _most_ of his life. Planning a life without all of that… who the hell knew what _that_ would entail? He'd been running in war for a whole lot longer than Angie had, but the stop would be just as sudden for both of them. What was that saying?

"_It's not the fall that gets you, it's the sudden stop at the end." Well, whatever it is, it'll get us both._

Angie's sleepy movements pulled Tyler from his wandering thoughts. He moved his fingers back and forth through her hair, enjoying the silky warmth. _I wonder how many times I didn't notice?_

"Hey, Angel. How you feeling?"

She hugged his legs a little tighter for a second, and then arched her neck to look up at him without lifting her head. "Dunno." She sighed. "Empty… I think I'm feeling empty. Like I got nothing left ."

He smiled down at her. "Wrong. You got me, and I'm not going anywhere. The rest'll come back in time."

Angie looked away from him then, but didn't let go. "I think maybe you're really all I _do_ have… you're the only part of my life that still makes sense, that's still _here_ like it always was. I mean, there's Maggie and Willie and I couldn't do without them either, but I dunno…"

"Ssshh," Tyler leaned down to kiss the side of her head. "I get it. And whatever happened back there," he knew that _she_ knew what he meant, "you can keep it to yourself, or not, but make sure it's because you want to."

She sighed again as Tyler rubbed his hand up and down her back. "Okay. Not yet, not now. There's no words for it yet. But maybe later."

"Just so you know." He saw Angie was wearing one of his t-shirts again. This time there was no wry reproach… she'd gotten so thin she barely filled it out.

"JeSUS you have gotten bony." Tyler patted her no-longer lush ass. "We gotta fatten you up, woman." He took a decisive breath, as if setting a plan, and shifted Angie so she was lying draped across his lap, leaning on her as if she were a pillow (but still stroking her gently wherever his hands felt like wandering). "When this war is over, we are gonna find us a five star restaurant with a ten-star chef if we have to go to the last place on earth. No more fucking c-rations."

Angie rolled back a little and faced Tyler with a hopeful smile, "Can we have Oreos?"

He leaned almost nose-to-nose and promised, "_Flambé, _with hundred-year Napoleon brandy. Right after the Veal Oscar and _pommes des terres Lyonnaise, _and just before the Bananas Lauria." He paused, then told her with a patented smirk, "You got the _bananas_ part down already."

She sat up then, and looked closely at the man she thought she'd gotten to know pretty well. _Except for most of everything you'd usually know…_ she admitted to herself before observing, "I've always suspected there's lots more to you than a well-read hired gun."

He laughed then, suddenly, and the sound took them both by surprise. "Lady you have _no_ idea. Between operations, I am _nothing_ but class." Then, just as suddenly, her swollen, red eyes and haggard face cut the humor out of him and replaced it with a twinge of something he'd forgotten how to define. "But I promise, you'll catch on fast." He framed her face in his hands, thumbs gently touching the corners of her eyes.

"Ham…" Angie leaned into his hands and pressed close enough to rub her face against his beard, then sat back again.

They looked at each other in silence for several minutes until Angie finally asked with a puzzled expression, "The sun's been up for a while now, don't you have something you're supposed to be doing?"

The smirk morphed into a warm smile as Tyler pulled her into his arms.

"I'm doin' it."


	9. The Only Game In Town

"C'mon, let's get something like food." Tyler tried to draw Angie to her feet as he rose, but she resisted. It was not unfamiliar.

"Nah, I'm not hungry. Go ahead, though, I don't mind."

He swallowed a response, and headed for the door. "Okay, yeah, it's been a rough night. I'll bring back some coffee."

"You don't have to."

_You don't have to._

Something in that short phrase threw a switch in the Fixer. The last slammed door he'd had inside of him had opened just the day before, when he'd heard "the Angel has landed," and that last dark place in him had let in some light. Or maybe it was before that, the first time she'd rolled into him in the middle of the night some night he couldn't remember. But it _had_ been opened, and he'd waited for the same last door to open in her. Something that might tell him that this wanting to help, something he'd only come upon in the past year, wasn't some kind of insult. Holy shit, he'd spent half his life without caring about who needed what from him, except self defense with explosive weapons. And now when he finally had something to offer it was… _you don't have to. _

Tyler stood still for a second with the half-opened cabin door in his hand. "Yeah, you're right. I don't have to." Then he flung the door shut and turned to face Angie. "I don't _have_ to. I just thought it might help." The slamming door startled Angie to her feet. Tyler finally got a good, hard look at her, standing barefoot and scrawny in his t shirt with her sunken eyes and hollow face. "Jesus Christ, Angie, have you _looked_ at yourself lately? You look like you're dead and forgot to lie down."

She looked down at her body, with no mirror handy to look at her face. The expression she wore was painful. "Well I'm sorry, but it hasn't been a priority. If you need something less bony, I'm sure Ruthie is around here somewhere…"

_Okay, when is this enough?_ "I don't _want_ Ruthie… fucking hell, I don't want _anyone_ except you. But you just refuse to get it, don't you?"

She responded with a confused and angry attitude. "What do you want? Candy and flowers? Shit, Tyler, is this Opposites Day? Suddenly the Fixer is the needy prom date? I just came out of the worst shit I could ever survive, just _barely_, and you're pissed off that I won't go with you to eat some trucked-in crap with a bunch of people who will stare at me and want to know all the gory details?"

_Not getting it. How could somebody who grabs onto me in her sleep not get it? _Ham Tyler would have sold his soul for that secret language Maggie and Angie seemed to share. What was it Maggie had said to him? He knew the language, just had a different dialect, something like that. Well it never seemed to be enough, but it was all he had at the moment.

"Y'know," he told Angie, waving a hand toward the camp outside, "when I dragged my ass into camp last night I went looking for you in the infirmary. Parrish told me where you were and how you were, and she also told me there is a mess of stuff screwing around inside you that you won't give up to anybody. And lady, after last night I don't have to be a shrink to figure _that _out. She also told me I'm the only game in town for you when it comes to sorting out this shit. Maybe she's right and maybe she's wrong, but _definitely _this 'you don't have to' riff is getting old. I don't _have_ to do any of it. I didn't _have_ to beat the crap out of you to get you out of trouble, but I did. I sure didn't have to tell you about _my_ end of that bargain, because you never bothered to ask. I never had to tell you how that mark I put on your face, and the marks that lizard put on your back, how all of that makes me want to puke. _Made_ me puke. How every time you came back from a night with that lizard, looking like _you_ wanted to puke, or die, or whatever else you kept inside your head, how that made me want to do whatever it took to take that look away. But you didn't ask, and I didn't offer, because I knew you'd say I didn't _have_ to. I don't _have_ to do anything, but it wouldn't kill either one of us if I got a chance to try. Yeah, it's Opposites Day all right, because it took me most of my fucking life to figure out how to be human, and just when I stumble over somebody who feels like she's a reason to do it right, she tells me I don't _have_ to. Ever since I came back from Mexico I've been waiting for that door to open, thinking maybe I could reach in and try to take those bad dreams away for real. But hell no, you just keep leaning against it like I was the Big Bad Wolf come to make 'em worse." He gestured in frustration, out of sensible words for the moment, afraid of saying what couldn't be taken back later.

"I'm sorry." This time there was no sarcasm, as she continued, "You don't understand..." She seemed ready to explain something, but she didn't.

"Then _help_ me understand." Tyler reached for Angie's hand, and backed away a step when she didn't take it. "Keeping quiet was a good idea in the beginning. Then, I dunno, I guess it was a joke. Well it's not funny anymore, and it's a lousy idea. Keeping quiet is eating you up like a tapeworm, Angel. All that losing yourself, it's not lost, it's getting eaten alive." He lowered his voice to a persuasive murmur. "All those gory details, they can rot you inside if you leave 'em there too long. I know they did it to me until I figured out what to do with 'em."

Her resolve wavered. "What? What did you do?" She moved closer.

Tyler spread a hand across her cheek, ran his fingers up behind her head. It almost hurt to touch her; the woman whose warmth and softness had given him such inexplicable refuge had become dry, and hard, and worn sharp at the edges. And afraid. That hurt the most.

"I opened the door, opened my eyes, let in some light," he bent to kiss her forehead. "It looked a lot like you, as I remember." He felt her tense, anticipated her attempt to withdraw and held her still with hands on her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again.

"I know, you say it every night."

Her stunned expression was the only reply.

"Every night," he told her, "or _almost_ every night, since I got back from Mexico, and even before. Oh, it's not always the big bad nightmares, but you got something going on in your sleep, in your _head_, that I figured might work itself out by now. I thought, whatever it is, it's your fight, and I left to you fight it. But now you're losing, so it's time to stop letting you do it your way. Every night for almost a year… you run, and you fight, and you cry. And you apologize. Over and over, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry'."

"About _what?_"

He could tell she was genuinely baffled; she looked, and sounded, uneasy.

"Beats me. I'm not there in your head with you and 'sorry', I left you alone with it. Another dumbass mistake of mine, looks like, and _I'm_ sorry for that. But done is done… and quiet time is over."

A flash of belligerence returned. "Says who? The Fixer?"

Tyler didn't rise to the bait. "Says the man who stays awake every night trying to figure out how to drive the monsters away." The belligerence disappeared. "Good. Why don't we start with you telling me what happened in that bunker."

"Two went in. One came out. Do the math, Ham." She walked to the far side of the room and sat down hard on the naked cot frame. He stuck right with her, and crouched in front.

"Math isn't my best subject. Tell me what happened." The only reply he got was a sullen stare. "Okay, how's this, you ran like hell and he brought up the rear. He got fried and you didn't."

"That's about it."

He dropped to both knees and leaned closer. "Nice try, but we both know it's bullshit. What else. You're sorry… for what? You lived and he didn't… nope, too common. You told Parrish that he was dead when he hit the floor. How about you tell me what _really_ happened. You pushed him, is that it, knocked him into the line of fire? Maybe you tried to shoot at the lizards and hit him instead? How about you flipped out, wanted to leave, and he wouldn't let you, so you…"

"_Shut up!_"

Rising abruptly, he looked down at her and challenged, "Make me."

For just a second he could see clear into her through those tired, sad eyes. He went to his knees again, but this time took her face in his hands and wouldn't let her pull away, like that night in the railroad car, after Ruby got killed and he'd been so angry and stupid he'd blamed her for it.

"Angie…" he leaned his face against hers, whispered against her skin, "Baby, I just want to _help_, is that so bad?" He felt her head move side to side, and he gave her room to sit up and look at him.

"He called me mom," she said it as if she weren't sure it were true. "He didn't want to _die_, I could tell he was so scared, so surprised, we both were... he called me 'mom' and said he was sorry. And I couldn't _help_, I didn't know what to _do_!"

Tyler waited, because he knew there was more.

"I couldn't _help_ him, it was all wrong, it wasn't fair, we both knew it, it was so fucked up…"

Tyler felt Angie's hands clenched on his wrists, trying to pry him away from her. She looked like she was going to puke, or scream, or run. She seemed closer to the spinning edge of something crazy than either of them had seen before. _Real_-crazy, not the crazy of rueful jokes or affectionate jibes. He broke her grip on him and held her face still again. "Angie, look at me. Look." She did. "You can't fix everything. Sometimes when it all seems fucked up you still did everything right. Like when that kid called you mom, did you tell him he was wrong?"

She jerked back, horrified. "_No_! I told him he had nothing to be sorry for, I told him he did good and I was so proud of him…"

"So the last thing he heard was what he needed to hear, and the last face he saw was the one he wanted to see, because you didn't tell him he wasn't seeing it… you know how many people I've seen who didn't get that? Surrounded by a crowd of highly trained professional liars, all of them too stupid or proud or scared to lie the one time when it would do some good? This kid Todd wanted his mom to forgive him before he died, for whatever shit kids do, and you told him it was okay."

"But it _wasn't_ okay," she protested.

He shook her. To get her attention, to drive the bad thoughts away.

"Listen to me, I'm telling you like you told that kid. You did good. Even with that other Todd, you think you couldn't help him, that you got him killed, but you did right by him too."

"You don't have the right to say that."

"No, but _he_ did." Tyler leaned almost forehead-to-forehead, his eyes drilling into hers. "Did he blame you? Did he look at you like you didn't give a damn, and walk away blaming you?"

She shook her head silently, _no_.

"Okay, then. If anyone had the right to blame you, it was him. And he didn't. Now you listen to me, and you hear and you believe it because I've never lied to you. All is forgiven. All of it. I don't need to know all your old sins, any more than you need to know mine, or you needed to know about that kid's. But know this, there's no room left here for 'sorry'. I'm telling you now, because you shouldn't have wait until you're dying to hear it."

Angie managed to pull away and stumbled to the middle of the room, turning back to face Tyler. Her mouth was trembling and she was crying again, not quietly like last night, no faucets or controls. It rolled out like a flash flood through a broken dam.

"You can't want this," she sobbed, gesturing to herself, "_Nobody_ could want this, nobody _ever_ did, I gotta handle this _myself_… "

She looked like she wasn't even making sense to herself as Tyler rose and reached for her.

"No, you don't, and I'm not 'nobody'." He went to Angie and surrounded her the same way he did to calm her when she was asleep, except this time it was here in the waking world, in broad daylight, no dark for the bad dreams to hide in. "When are you gonna believe it?" he asked her in a fierce whisper, "_I'm not going anywhere_, we are stuck with each other, come as you are." He hugged her hard enough to hurt, maybe that would convince her. "For a long time I was exactly what you're afraid of, and that 'nobody' would've been long gone by now. But that's not me, not anymore. Just open the goddamn door wide enough to let me prove it. And for christsake don't tell me I don't _have_ to."

Tyler took a deep breath as he felt Angie cling on tightly, still shaking with sobs. She said something but her face was jammed so deep into his shoulder he couldn't hear it clearly. He managed to raise her head a bit and asked "What?"

"I said I love you, and I'm scared of what happens next." The words were spoken as if she were admitting a cardinal sin.

He hugged her head against his chest again and reassured her, "Well we're surrounded by a bunch of people who feel the same way… about what happens next. But I'll tell you something, Angel, however this shit storm ends," he lifted her chin so he could look her in the eye, "_this_ Big Bad Wolf's got your back." This drew a smile, weak but gaining.

"So it looks like you huffed and puffed and blew my door in, huh?" The sad look returned, "I'm sor…" The disapproving Raised Eyebrow look prompted Angie to change course. "I mean, come in. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Now Tyler threw back his head and laughed out loud. It felt goddamned good. "Us bad boys ain't afraid of you library ladies." Then he kissed her, hard and deep, and added, "Much."

From outside there erupted a series of shouts and exclamations. The words weren't distinct, but they didn't sound much like a call to arms.

Angie stepped back reluctantly from Tyler's embrace. "What the hell is that about?" she asked, turning toward the dirty windows.

"Beats me," he shrugged. "Maybe Gooder finally got laid."


	10. Stirred up, knocked down

"Really, something is going on out there!"

Angie dressed quickly, and then rummaged in Tyler's leather bag. "You got that Beretta? I lost my hand blaster… I need something lighter than that Glock cannon of yours. Never mind, here it is."

Tyler watched as Angie pulled the pistol from its holster, checked the clip, jacked a round into the chamber, and jammed it into the back waistband of her jeans so smoothly it seemed like a single motion. There was a time he'd have been proud of what she'd learned… but this time it felt different.

"Hey, Angel. I said you could stop, last night. I said I'd take us both the rest of the way."

"I'm good til it's over."

When she turned and faced him, Angie saw through the chocolate eyes, right into the (new? newly visible?) man inside. The look that flashed across Tyler's face drew her casual assurance up short.

_How long have I been hurting him like this? _ She went to him and gripped his arm, her other hand pressed to his chest.

"This isn't about 'you don't have to'," she insisted, "I know what you promised me, and I know exactly what you meant. But we both know it's not gonna work that way. It can't." He was looking hard at her. "C'mon, it wouldn't just be you covering for me, and you know it. I'd be hiding behind everyone else. We're surrounded by people who can't just 'stop' because they've had enough. Besides, I know how you are about slackers. You know you couldn't just let me lay back and wait."

"Try me." The contrast between the desperation of last night and her casual behavior now was something he couldn't believe easily, and she knew it.

"I was wrecked last night, I was beat down by what happened. I know you want to give me whatever I need, but last night I needed a place to hide, I guess, and a place to go crazy." Angie paused to read Tyler's expression. It was the open, listening expression, so she went on. "I begged for something that isn't right, and isn't real. And that's gonna happen sometimes, I don't know when it's gonna stop. I mean we both know I'm crazy, right?" She could see the weak joke wasn't weakening his resolve. And she knew that in spite of her meltdown last night, things were going to continue the way they had been going... love wasn't strong enough to change that. Right down to the wire, and neither one of them had ever really believed differently.

Angie reached her hands up to frame Tyler's face , as he did often to her when he wanted her to focus on what he was saying.

"You hate that beard," she observed with a faint smile, pausing to run her fingers back and forth. "You keep it for me. So do this one more thing for me that you'll hate… break that promise I didn't really want, okay?" She tried to look as hard as he did, but as always it was no contest. When he reached both hands behind her she thought he'd try to take the Beretta. But he just tucked it in more firmly, and pulled her a little closer against him.

"My kinda woman," he said, and kissed her more gently than he'd expected to.

"I'm betting on it," she returned, "I didn't kiss this many toads _not_ to end up with a prince… even if he's the Prince of Darkness." Then he was looking at her in that studious way that made her feel awkward, even after all this time. She turned from him to open the door.

Before she could step out, Tyler yanked her back by her belt and wrapped an arm around her from behind.

"No matter how this ends I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. Got it?" he growled in her ear.

She nodded, leaning into him. God, she loved how he felt. "Got it."

"Good." He gave her a light shove. "Now let's see what the hell's got the campers stirred up."

* * *

"Stirred up" was something of an understatement. There was a clutch of rebels near the open-air "motor pool" where their few beat up vehicles sat. Willie sat on the ground, and Julie was examining a wound on his head that exposed the green scales beneath the "skin". The smell of diesel was in the air, and there were torn up tire marks nearby. A distant rattling and roar could be heard.

"Those two hillbilly brothers jumped Willie and took the jeep," Elias ranted to nobody in particular. Given their remote location and with everything in wait-and-see mode, "sentry duty" was assigned more or less to give people a sense of doing something, anything at all besides just wait-and-see. The only real "guarding" went on at the farther perimeters, so anything in camp was easy pickings. When their pickup was commandeered by Maggie and Robert to transport some rebels to another camp, "hillbilly brothers" Jimmy and Jay decided to trade up (or so they thought). They'd already discovered there was nothing much worth stealing from these raggedy losers, so being able to pound Willie was an added bonus.

"They won't get far," Caleb listened and smiled as the echoes of a dying jeep reached them. "Tank's almost dry, and the oil pump is shot."

"Yeah, well I wanna know what they meant by 'let's finish the job'," Elias demanded of Willie, who was on his feet again. "You said you were messed up when they _found_ you."

"It did not seem important," Willie offered vaguely, but Tyler had already caught on.

"I knew they were nothin' but inbred assholes," he grumbled, and headed off in the direction of the dying vehicle sounds.

"Shit, bro, let 'em go," Chris drawled. He didn't like them any more than Tyler did, but they weren't worth going after.

"I don't think so," Tyler answered over his shoulder, then added with a reptilian grin, "Anyway, I'm sick of sitting on my ass, I'm gonna _kick_ some while I got the chance."

Reassured that Willie was okay, Angie rolled her eyes. "Had to happen… he can only play nice for so long, huh?" she observed.

Farber smirked and nodded. "Why don't you go bring him back after he's had his fun," he suggested. "Judging from those two clowns, it won't take long."

"Well I can use the fresh air, I guess." And with that, Angie took off after Tyler at a casual trot.

* * *

The jeep had lasted even less time than Caleb imagined it would. It crapped out only a few hundred yards from camp, leaving Jimmy and Jay kicking and cursing it before they hauled their few possessions out and prepared to walk. Jay heard the crashing of brush behind them and turned to see Tyler striding toward them in the distance.

"That leather-jacket motherfucker again…" Jay muttered. "Thinks he's badder than badass." Jay didn't like the way that jerk had manhandled him and his brother. And he talked like some kind of lizard-lover.

Jimmy had the shotgun slung over his shoulder and was already walking away. "Let it go, man, who cares who he thinks he is. He's not gonna follow us."

"He's not gonna have to." Jay ignored his brother and marched along the dirt track toward Tyler.

* * *

_Dumb fucks_, Tyler thought, then barked at the approaching redneck, "Smart move, assholes, steal the one thing we got that was ready to croak, and pick the one person to beat on that would piss me off the most." The genius with the shotgun was taking off in the opposite direction. Tyler shook his head with a disgusted smirk and had already holstered his Glock when Jay suddenly stood his ground about twenty feet away, and pulled out the one thing that _had _been worth stealing.

"Piss on this, fuckwad," Jay snarled, and for the first time in living memory The Fixer was taken completely by surprise.

_Ah, shi— _

The first shot spun him around; the second knocked him onto his face.

Everyone in camp heard the shots, but Angie was close enough to tear up the road in time to see Tyler go down. Whoever pulled the trigger on him was walking away. Not running, _walking_. She heard herself holler, as if from a great distance.

"_HEY!"_

When Jay turned around he saw a scrawny broad with short scraggly dark hair, reaching behind her back with one hand. He didn't bother raising his stolen weapon again. "Gotta problem, bitch?"

The last word gargled out in a spray of blood.

_One, two three… just like Chris had taught her while Tyler was in Mexico, because she'd never be a sharpshooter. Quick and dirty: one to the throat, two to the chest, and three to the gut, squeeze the trigger and spread the damage, if one doesn't do it the others probably will._

He was dead before he hit the ground.

Then Angie was on her hands and knees next to Tyler, still clutching the Beretta in one hand, the other one scooping uselessly at the blood that seemed to come from everywhere, as if she could force it back inside. She started begging, "Tyler, c'mon, get _up,_"and then shrieking, "_JULIE!_ _JULLLIIIIEEEE!_" so madly she couldn't even hear the approach of running feet. She barely noticed as Chris Farber picked her up bodily and broke her grip on the Beretta she'd pointed again at the dead stranger lying nearby, squeezing the trigger until the clip was empty.


	11. The waiting room

"Pressure! Back and front, both sides, PRESSURE!" Julie demanded as she and Mike, Willie, and Caleb ran as fast as they could while carrying the dead weight of Ham Tyler. Blood was pouring from front and back, left and right, maybe the shoulder but maybe the chest, and while there was no fountain-like spurting to indicate a blown artery, blood loss was blood loss.

Caleb immediately shifted his grip to hold onto the places that seemed to pour blood; Willie kept an iron grip on Tyler's ankles. Donovan was slower, so he shouted "There, and there!" indicating the places opposite where faucets of blood seemed to run. Mike moved his hands to match the blood flow, and in just a few more steps they were back in camp, Julie in the lead.

She pounded through the infirmary door without touching the latch. "Right here!" she ordered as she swept the welter of books and papers off the long table that served as her desk, "_keep the pressure up, goddammit!_"

Willie passed dressings from the supply cabinet and instruments from a tray. "Okay, lift up… _now_." When they did, Julie tore apart Tyler's shirt with her bare hands and mopped enough blood away to find two wounds in front: an entry wound just below his left shoulder, and a slightly larger exit wound in his right side. She dove in to probe entry wound first, and observed, "Small caliber, thank God, but s_hit_, where's the bullet? Shift him, quick, toward me, one, two THREE!" and Willie shoved the inert body toward Julie and Mike. "Through and through," Julie declared as she found matching exit and entry wounds that corresponded to those in front. "Okay, DOWN!" and he was dropped onto his back again as four hands, two black and two white, struggled to slow the blood loss. Another hasty probe at the second wound, and a shout of "One front one back, through and through! More dressings, stat!" In the urgency of the moment, the former med student fell back on standard jargon. "That means _now!_" she screamed at her two amateur EMT's. Caleb and Donovan scrambled for more gauze and towels, one hand at a time grabbing whatever Willie offered, holding up the vise grip on both sides of Tyler's double wounds. "Pack it!" Julie demanded, and both men looked at her in confusion. "Into the wounds! PACK IT!" she barked. They shoved the dressings into the holes with their fingers with desperate urgency. "_Lean_ on 'em!" Julie ordered as she rummaged for the canvas strips, torn from tarps and tents, to bind it all together. "Keep it up until I say stop!" Tyler's head rolled from side to side; he trying to speak. "_Shut up!" _Julie yelled in his rapidly greying face (incredibly, he complied… or passed out… nobody cared which) as she directed Caleb and Mike to shift, left and right, and ran the canvas around Tyler's torso to clamp the dressings in place.

When this was done she stood back, breathing heavily, and wiped her hands over own her face before peering closely into Tyler's. "Flashlight, Willie, then pressure gauge," she ordered, and he passed her the ridiculously large torch that was the only thing handy. She pulled at one eyelid, then the other, then tossed the torch aside as Willie thrust the blood pressure meter and stethoscope into her hand. She checked pulse and heartbeat, then shifted the stethoscope under the blood pressure cuff Willie had already inflated. "Pulse is thready, pressure low but holding, heartbeat regular... I'll be damned if I know how," she muttered to the unconscious patient, "anyone else would be dead by now." Tyler would have appreciated her admiring smirk.

"Has he missed too much?" Willie inquired in a low voice. Stress had all but wiped out his language skills. Julie understood, and answered honestly.

"I don't know, Willie. All I know is we don't have any more blood to give him if he did. Even if we had a donor, we don't have the equipment to transfuse him." She re-inflated the blood pressure cuff and took another reading. "It's still steady."

The forbidding Mr. Tyler had not always been welcoming to him, and even now Willie could not say they were "friends" in the way he understood the human meaning. But Ham Tyler had run after the two men in a burst of anger because of their treatment of him, and now he lay gravely wounded as a result. Willie didn't even have a name for what he was feeling. Not guilty, exactly… he just knew that this rough man didn't deserve to die for such a thing. And Angie loved him so.

"I will call the light for him." His friends looked a little surprised. "Calling the light" was a phrase from the Visitor religion, to be used only among themselves.

"Thanks, Willie," Julie managed a tense smile. "I'll take all the help I can get. Okay, I'm gonna look at these one at a time to scope out the damage, front then back, then the next one, front and back. Get ready with more compresses and be ready to apply heavy pressure."

He was shifted left and right again, and Julie unwrapped the canvas to examine more thoroughly. "Stay with me, damn you," she whispered fiercely to the unconscious Tyler, "you stay _ with_ me!"

With a strength he usually concealed from humans, Willie reached back, one-handed, and dragged the heavy oak supply cabinet closer so he could reach everything more quickly.

* * *

"Put me _down!_" Angie screamed, fighting Chris Farber's formidable grip.

"Slow down, Angie, you gotta slow down, you can't help him by going crazy."

Scrawny Angie may have been, but adrenaline could transform anyone into a screaming handful. Seeing Tyler shot down and spewing blood had punched a hole in his gut, but experience told Farber that insane rage would _not_ be helpful_._

With a desperate arch of her body, Angie managed to kick back and connect hard with Farber's crotch. Even a Big Bear had to reckon with that, and he dropped her as he stumbled to the ground.

"_Shit,_" he gasped as he rolled in pain. _I'm not the enemy_ he groaned inside his head, knowing this was irrelevant in Angie's world at the moment, so he let it go. The thought, if not the explosive pain in his nuts.

Angie paused, but only for a second. "I'm sorry, Bear, I'm sorry…" Then panic overtook her again, and she ran like hell for camp.

* * *

Maggie was standing, stunned, outside the infirmary, having returned just in time to see her friends running hell-bent to the infirmary carrying Tyler, all of them covered with what had to be his blood.

Angie intended to blast past Maggie and into the small building, but instead stumbled over her own feet and fell into Maggie's arms, knocking them both to the ground. For a moment they clung in an embrace of confused emotion. They hadn't seen one another since before the Coast Guard Station evacuation. Since Angie had been brought to camp the day before, Maggie contented herself with knowing her friend was alive and (mostly) well, and thought it better to leave her and Tyler to themselves. And now... well she was at a complete loss.

After a very few seconds Angie tried to break free, but Maggie wouldn't let her, because she knew where her friend was headed.

"You can't go in there now, not yet."

"_Why the fuck not?" _ Angie spat, and tried to scramble away, but Maggie still held on.

"Mike and Caleb and Willie are in there with Julie, there's no _room_!"

Abruptly Angie gave up the fight and sat down flat in the dirt, staring at the closed infirmary door as if waiting for the gift of x-ray vision. Maggie slid next to her and grabbed her arm, ignoring the blood.

"What the hell _happened_?" she asked. She wanted to know, but mostly she wanted to distract Angie.

Now that she had to think about it, Angie wasn't really sure what had happened, or how.

"I dunno, really… two guys stole a jeep, they beat on Willie, not the first time maybe, and Tyler took off after them. I followed him, and heard shots, he was face down on the ground when I caught up." She shook her head to sort the images. _I should be crying, I should be hysterical. I'm just… quiet. _"He's still alive, right? I mean I could _tell_ if he was dead, I'd feel it..."

"If they're all still in there, he's still alive," Maggie promised, reassuring herself as much as Angie. "Did you see who did it?" Maggie asked. It didn't matter really; they couldn't exactly call the cops. But it was something to say, something to keep them both sane while they waited.

"Yeah. I got some shots off, I think I hit him."

"Damn straight," rumbled a familiar voice, and both women looked up to see Chris Farber walking toward them (albeit a bit awkwardly, Angie noticed with a twinge of guilt), dragging a bloody body by one arm. "Not worth getting messy for," he explained. In his belt were jammed a cheap revolver and Angie's - _Tyler's -_ Beretta. He stopped a few feet short of where Maggie and Angie sat on the ground and dropped the dead man's arm like so much trash. "You remembered. 'One, two, three…'"

Angie peered up at him. "Did it work?"

With a jerk of his thumb toward the dead man, Farber suggested, "Ask him."

Angie stared at the body, feeling oddly empty of self-doubt. She didn't even wonder about it. "He was walking away… _walking_. Like he'd just shot a can off a rock."

Farber nudged the body with his toe, leaned in closer as if looking for something. "Walking away?" he asked, "all these hits are from the front."

"I yelled at him so he'd turn around."

Maggie thought she understood. "You didn't want to shoot him in the back?"

Angie shook her head and corrected in a matter-of-fact voice, "I just wanted a clearer shot. I don't remember thinking about it much. Tyler was face down by the road, and this asshole was just _strolling_ away. I didn't think about it. I just yelled and he turned, and the gun was in my hand. I didn't even know if I hit him." She looked up at Chris, who was wearing a half-smile.

"You didn't have to. Brain turns off, learning takes over. You did just fine, Angie, if you thought about it they'd be in there working on you, too." He leaned down and patted her shoulder, then gave it a squeeze. And to Maggie and Angie's surprise, he sat down on the ground next to them with a loud "Oomph."

"This appears to be the waiting room," he observed. "So if you ladies don't mind, I'll just wait here with you."

Angie just nodded, lost in the rush of events. Maggie, however, indicated the dead body lying a few feet away.

"What about him?"

Farber shrugged. "He looks happy where he is." He read something more in Maggie's expression, and headed off the unasked question, "I've been here before, more times than you could count. Him too, with me. It all happens like it happens. Gettin' wound up about it won't change a thing."

Though Maggie could see the worried furrow in his forehead, she didn't call him on it.

_Ten minutes… fifteen… twenty…_

* * *

The door to the infirmary creaked open, and a spent-looking Julie stepped squinting into the sunshine. On her heels followed Caleb and Donovan.

Angie looked them over. There was so much blood… they looked like survivors of a massacre. She looked down at her own bloody hands and t-shirt and jeans. "Does he have any left?" she asked in a flat voice.

After a moment's consideration, Julie collapsed on the ground in front of Angie, Maggie, and Chris.

"Believe it or not, yeah." She gathered her thoughts, then told them, "There were two gunshot wounds, small calibre thank God, one from the front below the left shoulder, one from the back, right side just missing the bottom rib. The wounds are clean through, no bones or major organs involved. And yeah, he lost plenty of blood, but no major blood vessels seem damaged. We got the bleeding under control," she nodded toward her two "nurses", "and I got things cleaned up. I'll need to watch for infection, luckily we got enough antiseptic supplies and antibiotic drugs with the last load Jimmy and Jay brought in." Here she paused and looked at the very dead Jay, then continued, "But the big thing is waiting to see how he recovers from the blood loss. Shock is a major issue, because of the bleeding, but I think we're on top of that for the moment." She gasped a breath and leaned forward to drop her face in her hands, then rose up just a little. "That's the best I could do for now… the best _we_ could do," she quickly corrected herself.

"Hey," Caleb interjected quietly. "Don't worry about manners right now."

"Tyler never does," Angie observed with a small, vague grin. "I know the first thing he'll say when he comes to won't be 'thanks guys'." That he might not come to at all did not register in her mind as a possibility.

"Well I know it won't be 'where am I'… _way_ too common for The Fixer," Donovan added.

"I'll tell you what'll happen," Angie said, "he'll crack an eye, grunt a little, and say 'What the _fuck_?'. Yeah… 'What the fuck'… guaranteed."

The six of them looked at one another for a minute or so. They'd been through so much so far, and were still alive while so many others, no more or less special than they were, hadn't made it. Donovan spoke their thoughts aloud.

"Win or lose, it's too close to the finish line to lose anyone else."

Angie nodded, a feeling of calm certainty settling over her. "He's not going anywhere… he promised."

A second's awkward silence, then Farber heaved himself to his feet.

"Don't know about you, but I'm gonna get a shower." He waved his hands, one bloodied from squeezing Angie's shoulder. "Tyler and me may be brothers in blood but that don't mean I gotta wear it."

Caleb shot a look at the late Jay. "What are we gonna do with _him_?"

Donovan replied by grabbing the dead man's feet and nodding toward a pile of cut brush. Chris and Caleb helped to haul Tyler's shooter over and dump him next to the pile, to be buried a little later.

"He beat on Willie and stole from us and shot Tyler. Don't know that we need to say any words over him," Caleb mused.

"I disagree." Farber spat on the ground and leaned over the man who had tried to kill his best friend. "Fuck you."

He turned on his heel and stalked away to the showers. Caleb and Donovan followed in silence.


	12. Tomorrow

Caleb and Donovan and Chris went to dump the man Angie had killed, and Julie left to shower and take a nap, leaving Willie to watch over the now-stable Tyler.

Angie sat on the ground outside, and waited for enough time to pass that whatever she'd see in Tyler would indicate improvement. The wild events of the morning had accomplished something entirely unexpected. Seeing Tyler shot down, calling back his attacker and calmly, precisely, ending his life, had left her feeling exactly the opposite of what she would have felt just a few weeks ago. There was no churning doubt. No vague guilt or angst over having become a person she'd never imagined she could be. She considered this, for several long hours, in a kind of Zen trance. In the end there wasn't even the redundant guilt of _not_ feeling guilty. The realization that killing that murderous stranger for what he'd tried to do – _oh please let it only be that he __tried__ – _left her quietly certain that she'd one the right thing. No further wondering was necessary. _Won't he be proud of me. _It was like waking from a fantasy of what should be to the world of what is. And for the first time since she'd heard her friends at the library in Boston express their doubts – _their fears_ – about the Visitors, she didn't feel like a traitor for getting away.

Finally she went into the infirmary, and found Willie seated near the cot where Tyler lay.

"So, how's it look?" Angie asked. She knew that Willie didn't know how to sugarcoat reality, even if he wanted to.

"He is stable."

The odd calm Angie felt deepened. "He's okay." Even as she looked down at Tyler's pale, still body she knew.

"Yes. He is stable." Willie didn't know how else to express it… his frantic efforts, together with those of his comrades, had seemed to stop the immediate threat of death. Now that blood loss had been stopped, it appeared that only rest was required for healing. It was something that Willie had required some experience to learn… among his people rest had always meant death. Among humans, under certain conditions the body could heal itself if left on its own.

Angie looked more closely at Tyler, seeing the steady rise and fall of his breathing, noting the blank calm of his expression. She'd never seen him so blank, even on the nights when she woke with worries and dreams he couldn't calm, when she managed to withdraw from his side without waking him. He thought he woke first and she'd always let him believe it, even when her wondering woke her up without nightmares.

"Right here, baby, I'm right here," she whispered and traced her fingers across the smooth brow. "Still breathing, we're still breathing."

"Angie…" Willie struggled for the human words to express what he needed to say as a friend. "He will be okay."

"I know," she answered mildly. "What's in the i.v.?" It looked pretty much identical to the one she'd had when she was brought to camp.

"Moisture… I am sorry, it is for hydrating?"

Even if his learned medical skills were in place, in some respects Willie was completely undone by Tyler's shooting. Angie reached for his hand.

"Yeah, so he won't dry up. It's okay, Willie," she promised, and stood to look him in the eye. (Tyler was alive, so she could focus on someone else who needed reassurance) "Julie wouldn't leave you here if you didn't know exactly what to do."

Willie blinked, feeling more like an alien than usual. "I do not know what to do. I can only do what I am told to do."

"Me too," Angie said, "everything I've done since I met you all was because I got told what to do. Not ordered… I _needed_ to know, because nothing made sense to me. Tyler made sense, and he'd tell me stuff, not demanding, just like he was sure it would work." She sat down again and returned her attention to Tyler. "And it always did. He's always been so _sure_ about us. Like after that whole wild bloody life he'd led, it was all just waiting to happen, him and me, and when it did he just took it as natural as sunrise. Not me, though. I always worried and wondered and questioned. I guess I never thought anything was waiting to happen for me, at least not with some gun toting commando, so when it did it surprised the shit out of me and threw me off balance." Willie's hand on her shoulder reminded her she wasn't talking to herself. "Sorry," she told him, "I guess I'm rambling a little."

Willie remembered feeling the same way shortly after arriving on Earth. Surprised, and off balance, when he'd met the human woman who had loved him for the rest of her brutally shortened life. Harmony had been sure, and natural as sunrise, and he had wondered as Angie said she had, even if he hadn't doubted as she did. His friends Caleb and Elias were sure, too, and later, Julie. They were all sure before he was. It was, he'd learned, not something to be ashamed of for long.

"You mind if I stay a while?" Angie asked. "I'm not worried or anything, just…"

"I do not mind. I understand why. " He left Angie sitting by Tyler's cot and cleaned up the remains of the emergency, managing to wash up a bit by the pump-fed sink, then sat in the chair by the now-restored desk. As he watched his friend watching her improbable lover, Willie wondered if he himself would ever again be surprised and thrown off balance in this world. He hoped he would.

* * *

"How's he doing?" Julie entered the infirmary cleaner and a little more refreshed. She wasn't pleased to see Angie sitting next to Tyler's cot, still spattered with his blood, even if she wasn't surprised.

"He seems okay," Angie said, but Julie wasn't looking at her.

"Willie, how are his vitals?"

"They are stable. His heart is steady and his blood has increased." Willie paused, and corrected, "His blood pressure."

"Good," Julie leaned past Angie to check Tyler's pulse. She lifted first one, then the other, of Tyler's eyelids, and laid a hand on his forehead. "He seems a little warm." She didn't want to risk a thermometer, thinking even unconscious he might bite down on it, which would be a whole other mess. "When did you change the i.v. last?" she asked as she checked the bag then gave it a squeeze to increase the drip rate a little.

Willie checked the clock on the desk. "Thirty minutes and go."

Satisfied that her patient was moving in the right direction, Julie turned her attention to Angie. "What the hell are you still doing here?"

Julie had been trying to accommodate Angie's relationship with Tyler, even if it seemed insane given the circumstances. She'd known Angie would come in and keep watch, even though there was nothing she could do to help, and she had let it go. But now reality trumped romance.

"_Look_ at yourself," she continued, "you're a human petri dish! We didn't work like hell to save him only to have you kill him with an infection!"

Now Angie jumped to her feet as if shocked by a cattle prod. "I didn't touch him!" Which was a lie, because she'd hesitantly stroked his face as Willie was otherwise occupied.

"I don't care," Julie snapped at her, "We've kept him alive long enough to gain some ground, to where he can recover by his own biology. The only danger _now_ is infection. Willie, you can take the rest of the night off. And Angie, you just need to _go_. Come back when you've had some rest. And when was the last time you ate anything? Coffee doesn't count."

"I dunno, when was the last time I puked?" Angie shot back, though she stood and stepped back from Tyler. "And as long as we're talking about recovery, why is he still out cold after so long?"

Julie leaned down again to check her patient's color. "Because I sedated him. It's one of the few things I still have here, and something that will help him. The longer he sleeps, the longer his body has to heal itself. And right now, that's all he's got to help him."

Willie watched the exchange with some concern. He knew Julie was right, and he knew why Angie wanted to stay. He didn't know if he should get involved, or how.

Julie solved Willie's dilemma by pointing to the door. "Maggie's outside. I asked her to make sure you get cleaned up and get something to eat."

"I don't need a babysitter," Angie bristled as Willie opened the door, and waited.

The two women stared at one another for a moment, then Julie told Angie, "Honey, we are all stretched thin. We're waiting for word on whether the Visitor fleet has been affected by your computer virus, and _nobody_ in this camp is good at waiting."

"Especially your patient here," Angie was forced to admit.

"That's the _second_ reason I knocked him out. An unconscious Tyler is a manageable Tyler."

Finally Willie spoke up. "You can say _that_ twice."

This drew laughter, albeit weak, from the other two. "When you're right, Willie, you're right!" Julie asserted. "Now both of you get out. This may not be the Mayo Clinic, but I'd like to keep the filth to a level I can handle."

As they stepped outside, Angie finally looked down at her clothes, and her hands. "I guess that would be me."

Maggie rose from where she'd been sitting on the ground and raised her lantern. "You got _that_ right. C'mon, shower first, force-feed after."

Willie was about to concur when he saw Elias approach. Not running, but moving faster than the rolling saunter he'd developed since they had nothing to do but wait.

"Hey, Willie, I know it's been a long day, but can you come to the radio shack? We could use a little help with something." _Something_ that he obviously was not prepared to go into detail about.

"May I change my clothes first?" he requested. Like Angie, he was covered with Tyler's blood.

Willie, Maggie, and Angie could all see the word "No" that was stopped before it escaped.

"Sure, get cleaned up, you could use it." As if to deflect any questions, he added, "Damn, Angie, you could use it _worse_." Then to Willie, "Ten minutes, okay?" He was gone again before anyone could comment.

"I am seeing you later," Willie announced and added, "Angie, you must eat. Maggie, you must make her _eat,_" he implored.

"You heard him," Maggie warned her friend. "And I do _not_ wanna see him pissed off." She was only half kidding… the few times his alien nature had shown under duress were not a pretty sight. Far beyond arguing, Angie just nodded numbly and followed as Maggie led the way to the showers.

* * *

It was close to midnight by the time Angie dragged back to the cabin. She'd managed to wash away every layer of blood and crud, and had found some clothes to fit her (sort of) in the box left outside of the bath house. Her own had been beyond hope. Maggie had dragged her to the camp kitchen and, almost literally, forced her to eat some canned chicken soup. Both were impressed when it stayed down. Afterward, Maggie pointed Angie in the direction of Cabin 3 and gave her a shove.

"I wish I had something deep to say but I got nothing left," she yawned. "We can get all sisterhood and sharing-crap tomorrow…" Another yawn. "Or later."

"Whatever," Angie mumbled and waved vaguely as she stumbled away.

Once in the cabin, Angie dropped her new/old jeans and, after lighting the lantern, crawled under the blankets piled on the corner pallet. She'd never figured out the chill that sometimes came off the water in L.A., it never seemed to be as hot as she figured it should be. Now they were further north, and inland, so the chill remained with just a slightly different character. What month was it? Sometime near spring, maybe March? Nobody kept track of a calendar; time was measured in intervals. Two days before the next supply run, a week until the next message from the Fifth Column, like that. She knew somebody in their group must have the key to that kind of information, maybe even Tyler knew. But it wasn't something she ever got close to, especially in the past few… whatever they were. Escapes? Deaths? She didn't really care anymore. The only date she cared about now was Over. It had come to mean more than Stop. 'Stop' was a minute in time, 'Over' was a moment opening to the future. Or erasing everything in the present... blackout. She wanted it, either way. And either way, she wanted it next to Ham Tyler.

The increasingly random thoughts floundered and faded, but still Angie couldn't sleep. Something wasn't right, and she knew it wasn't just the empty space next to her in bed. She breathed, deeply. Dust, and pine needles, and old wool. Shaking her head, she got up and went to rummage in Tyler's bag, until she reached the very bottom of the neatly packed clothing and few remaining weapons. There, all the way down, folded tightly and tucked under the spare shoulder holster, she found it and pulled it out. The last of the stash of black t-shirts he'd had with him when he and Chris first picked her up. He'd squirreled them away like gold, the last remnants of what he could call his own. Most of his other clothes had gone the way of filth and smoke and burn holes from overheated weapons, and the blood of others. She held this last t shirt to her face, and inhaled. _Gun oil and leather_. She yanked off her cast-off flannel shirt and pulled the t-shirt on, lifting the neck to breathe in the scent again. It was faint, but it was there. This time she was out by the time her head hit the pillow.

_She felt him, through her sleep she felt him leaning over her, _"Ssh, Angel, you're gonna be fine."_ Familiar fingers running over her face, her forehead, a light thumb tracing her lower lip, pausing at the small white scar he couldn't seem to keep away from, as if he could erase if by touching it gently enough. He was the gentlest man she'd known, with the least reason to be… oh god she loved how he touched her, as if laying his hands on her could heal them both. _"You're gonna be all right, don't be afraid of any of it…" _and the hard mouth that softened just for her brushed from her ear to her cheek…_

"I'm not 'fraid," she protested sleepily as she reached for him… and kept right on reaching. The shock of empty air jerked Angie mostly awake, but still foggy. She lay there for a few seconds, trying to figure it out. A dream? She'd dreamed of him before, when he was away, but it had never felt this real… then she smiled a little, remembering the times on campus a lifetime ago when she'd heard the airy-fairy spiritual types wax rhapsodic about how people who were deeply connected to one another could make their presence felt when they needed to, to say "I love you", to offer comfort. She'd heard the stories of making that impossible connection, reaching out in a last soul-deep effort to say…

_goodbye?_

No.

"No-no-no-no-no," Angie stuttered under her breath as she scrambled to her feet, jumped two-footed into her jeans, and raced barefoot through the camp to the infirmary.

* * *

"What can I do?" Willie asked when he joined Elias, Robert, and Mike in the small cabin that housed the radio equipment.

"Martin's people got this module in with the latest shipment of supplies today," Mike told him, and indicated the computer screen. "They didn't have time to translate."

Willie sat at the computer console and ran the module. His eyes widened as the lines of text flew by.

"What?" Robert demanded, "what do you see?"

Willie shook his head in a remarkably human gesture of disbelief. "I see tomorrow," he told them. "I see _our_ tomorrow."


	13. 1, 2, 3

Angie stumbled on the threshold of the infirmary and fell headlong through the door, landing on her hands and knees. Too breathless to speak, she looked up to see the spectacle of Julie trying to prevent Tyler from getting up off the cot. She didn't have to try very hard; blood loss and sedatives had put him at a disadvantage, even versus a five foot two, hundred and ten pound woman.

"See," Julie indicated Angie, crouched on all fours and gasping, as if she'd just stopped in for tea. "I told you she was all right, now lie down or I'll double the next shot and you won't wake up for a week!"

Angie struggled to her knees and tried to speak, but only managed a harsh rasping sound. After a second she was gasping at Julie and Tyler, "I heard… I thought…" then to Tyler, "you were with me, in the cabin, I thought…"

"You had a dream, Angie. And Tyler here, he had one of his own, he was convinced Jay shot you dead."

"I heard shots after I went down," Tyler was protesting as he lay down again, hands raised toward Julie in surrender. "It had to be her. Who else could it have been?"

Julie handed Angie a glass of water and she gulped down enough to restore her voice. "Oh it was me, all right," she told him, and finally got to her feet. "But I was the shooter."

It didn't make sense to him. "Sounded like a lot of shots, four or five at least."

Angie sat down on a nearby chair, still spent from her hundred-yard dash across camp. "Six," she corrected. "One, two, three."

Even in his dissipated condition, Tyler was able to bark a laugh as he rolled his eyes. "That pussy crap Farber taught you? What a waste of ammo. Shooting for slobs."

"It got the job done," Angie flatly.

"So where's the asshole now?" he wanted to know.

"With the compost."

"Well, shit. Remind me never to piss you off if you've got six rounds left. But I heard you yell, just before the shooting started. What was that about?"

"He was walking away."

Tyler's eyes widened. "He shot me, he was walking away, and you called him _back?_" he asked incredulously, then told Julie, "I take it back, remind me never to turn my _back_ on her! What the hell did you call him back for?"

"So I could _shoot _him. Whaddaya think, I wanted to shake his hand or ask him out?"

"Gimme another shot, doc, at least when I'm stoned it all kind of makes sense." He shut his eyes for a minute, and Angie could see he was wiped out and in pain. "Tell me somethin', Angel," he opened his eyes and looked at her sitting there next to him, "whatever happened to that scared little geek in a broke-down car?"

Angie shrugged as she told both Tyler and Julie, "She was a sublet. I think I'm back in my own life now, whatever it turns out to be. Guess you were right, I was just in hiding."

"You're saying you used to be a gunfighter?" Julie asked.

"Nah, doc, she was just a Boston Badass. Been on vacation for a while is all, right, Angel?"

"Yeah, right. After all I _am_ from a part of town where 'mother' is only half a word."

"My kinda woman," he announced, then more quietly he told Angie, "Nice to meetcha, badass. Haven't heard much about you, but you're exactly what I imagined. Hey, wait a minute… you wearing my clothes again?" He grunted in pain as he raised himself up a little to get a closer look. "You're wearing my _last_ black shirt?"

_Trust him to keep a mental inventory. A_ngie stood up and glanced uneasily at Julie.

"I'll just go get some coffee…" Julie suggested, and discreetly left.

"Well?" Tyler continued, "God damn, woman, you think you could find some clothes of your own?" It just didn't make sense to him, and was beginning to seem a little weird. Then again, it could have been the drugs...

"Look, I'm sorry, but, well, after everything that happened yesterday, I couldn't sleep." When Tyler's eyebrows rose in his "huh?" expression, Angie started to pace as she talked. "I couldn't _sleep_. I was alone, you were here barely hanging on, and I just couldn't…"

"You've slept alone before," he reminded her, still not understanding.

"Not like last night. Yeah, I've slept alone before, when you were on a raid or I was stuck somewhere. But not like last night… I never felt _alone_ like that, and I didn't know if you… I couldn't…" she looked down at him, and looked away again. "I mean even when you haven't been around there's always been something that… that I can breathe in, it's only you."

"Sweat and dirt? That's _everybody_."

She shook her head, lifted the neck of the t-shirt, and inhaled. "Gun oil and leather. It's part of you, and part of what kept me together when you were gone. On a shirt, on the pillow, on anything. Even when I wasn't aware of it, it was there. And last night there was nothing at all, and it scared me so bad I couldn't sleep. So I looked in your bag, and at the bottom there it was, on top of your spare holster and gun rags."

"Gun oil and leather."

When she looked back at him she expected him to be smirking, or shaking his head, but he wasn't.

"Crazy to the bone, that's what you are. Go ahead and keep it, if it helps. But take care of it, it's the last thing that didn't come from the used bin."

"Except your jacket, and your guns." She pulled the chair next to the cot and sat down. "If you go away again I'll have to start sleeping with your holster and cleaning kit under my pillow, I guess."

"I'm not going anywhere. And when this war is over we're gonna have plenty of time to teach you to shoot the _right_ way."

"About that," Angie interrupted. "Look, Tyler, it's time you got used to it. I will never be a sharpshooter, not in any way. It'll be one to the throat, two to the chest, and three to the gut, as long as I live. I will never do things like you do, I'll never think like you, no matter what a good idea you think it is. I'm not ever gonna be completely sure about everything, not even us. And I'm not gonna be able to fake it like you do sometimes." He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "Shut up."

"Yes, ma'am."

"What I mean is, I'm gonna be who I am, now that I think I know who that'll be. Which means I'll be sloppy sometimes, but I'll get the job done: one, two, three. I may still wonder, but I'm through worrying. So there it is, take it or leave it."

He was giving her that studying look. "You talk like I got a choice here."

"Don't you?"

The studying look morphed to that rare, open one. "Not for a long time now, Angel." Silence fell for a few seconds. "So, that manly fragrance of mine..." He didn't quite know what to make of it, she could tell.

"It kept me sane."

Now he _did_ smirk, though pain cut his laughter short. "Gonna take more than a whiff of me to do _that_, sweetheart. Well maybe after the war, we can bottle it and sell it to all the lady commandos who are out of a job."

"Yeah," she was smiling now, too. "We'll call it Soldier of Fortune."

"Fat chance." He closed his eyes then. "Y'know Angel, for the first time I'm thinking of the end of this war and it doesn't involve our side crashing and burning. I'm thinking maybe you and your Geek Squad solution just might have given us that last chance we've been needing."

As if they'd heard Tyler's hopeful musings, Willie and Elias came through the door without knocking. "Angie, we need you at the radio shack. You gotta see something."

"If it's bad news, I don't wanna. Not now, anyway."

"I do not know exactly," Willie told her urgently, "but it does not look like _bad_ news. Please," he implored, chancing a look at Tyler, who appeared to be as far from death's door as he'd ever been. "My eyes are not enough."

Angie sighed. "Well my eyes are seeing double, I'm so tired. Okay." She began to follow Willie and Elias to the door, then hesitated.

"Where's Julie?"

"I can live for five minutes without a babysitter," Tyler griped. He was looking around the room for something, and Angie found it.

"Living isn't the problem," Angie told him as she picked his boots up from under the desk. "Getting up and walking outta here is. I'll just take these with me."

Tyler fell back on the cot in pissed-off resignation. "Yeah well do me a favor and don't try 'em on. They're the only ones I got." She was almost out the door when he called out, "Hey! C'mon back here for a minute."

She dropped the boots out the door and waved the others off, and went back to Tyler's bedside to wait questioningly. He was looking hard at her, the dark chocolate eyes drilling into hers.

"What you said, about being sure about us. I _never_ faked it."

"_No_, god, no that's not what I meant." She crouched next to the cot to be on his eye level, so he could see her more closely. "Those drugs must be pretty good, maybe you can share 'em later. I know you never fake that. I just meant... I can't help asking myself questions, you know how I am like that. It doesn't mean I'm not sure what I want, or that it's where I want to be..." She was stumbling, so he intervened._  
_

"Hell yeah, I know how you are. I think we've straightened that out pretty well recently. But as long as you were talking about how you'll always be, here's my two cents: I'm always gonna be sure. In my line of work, how my life's gone, it's all that kept me alive. So when something jumps up, I decide right away what it is and how it fits. Right or wrong. I figure wondering can be your department, since you're so _good_ at it. Between the two of us we oughta break even."

"At least." Angie reached out and ran her fingers over Tyler's hard, weary face. "When I saw you lying there, all I could think of was killing the asshole who did it. Yeah, he was supposedly human but suddenly he was every part of this war that had taken everything from me and everyone else. He was Daniel and that Diana bitch, he was David, and whoever tortured Todd, and the sky patrol that killed New Todd, the lizards that took my friends away and killed my city and drove Willie from the only life he knew..."

"It's the same things I see when I'm in the middle of it," Tyler told her, "It's what helps you get the job done. One, two, three." She nodded, just a little sadly, then he pressed her whole palm to his face and breathed deeply.

"What do I smell like?" she asked.

"The future." He repeated the process, and added with a wink, "With just a soupçon of crazy."

Elias pulled the door open and whispered urgently, "Angie, c'mon, we really need you to have a look at this!"

"SHADDUP WILL YOU!" she hollered over her shoulder, "I'm coming, goddammit. The shift in the fucking paradigm of the war can wait for another ten seconds, JESUS!"

Tyler kissed Angie's hand and laughed out loud, ignoring the bolts of pain.

"You better listen to her, she can take you out in six shots."

Angie stood and looked down at Tyler. "Why do I get the feeling this will follow me for the rest of my life?"

"Probably because it will. That's _one_ thing you can be completely sure about. Now take off and shift the fucking paradigm, or whatever you gotta do. When I get off my ass in here I wanna have something to do besides _wait_."

"Jesus," she mumbled, "just once I wanna have a whole day where somebody doesn't tell me what to do." She leaned down and kissed him very thoroughly before she stomped out. Seconds later a pair of boots came sailing though the door, Angie's voice trailing after, "Try not to get yourself shot up before we get back."

Tyler grinned and shut his eyes.

"My kinda woman."


	14. Balayage final

"Okay, where is this," Angie asked. Willie had pushed her into the chair in front of the camp's only computer and knelt next to her before she had a chance to finish the sentence. Even her shaky knowledge of Visitor language could decipher some of the code, and the blocks of scrolling text took her breath away.

"Holy shit, _look_ at the volume of communications!" She looked over her shoulder at Willie. "How much of it have you read?"

"Enough to hope some things. But there is much in human language, in English and some I do not recognize."

Ignoring Elias, who hung over their shoulders, Willie narrowed a manual code search to isolate only non-Visitor language communications.

"They are not holes," he told her. "Only parts, but if they are like the rest…" He didn't dare speak his hopes aloud.

"Okay… shit, Russian, that's no good…" she entered some Visitor code and the blocks advanced. "German, no good, wait, here's some French…" She pored over the collection of somewhat disjointed lines. _Malade, l'eau sale, poison possible. _The latter made sense in French or English.

"Jesus, Willie…" she muttered to him under her breath, and they exchanged looks.

"What, dammit, _what?" _Elias burst out. Robert and Donovan waited tensely, but in silence.

"I can't be sure yet, but it looks like there are references here to illness, dirty, possibly poisoned water. But that can happen anytime, any sort of malfunction… I gotta find some _English_ here."

Finally some blocks of English text appeared. "Okay, before we go crazy, gotta find out where they're coming from. I mean just one bad batch of water doesn't mean anything…" She found a communiqué from the London Scientific Centre, aka Visitor Headquarters. "Widespread illness among command." Another, from Quebec City to the equivalent Visitor Coordinating Centre in Stockholm: "Depending on friendlies for operations." And finally, a communication that seemed to originate from no Earth location, in an assortment of languages:

"_Tevékenység felfüggesztése_… _Αναστολή εργασιών … Pozastavit provoz… Sospendere le operazioni… Suspendre les operations_…"

It was Willie who whispered the phrase in English: "Suspend operations." He looked at Angie, and both of them turned to Elias, Robert, and Mike, barely breathing in their disbelief.

"Suspend operations," Robert echoed. "It could be local a order," he added quickly, "it could mean anything."

Willie was shaking his head. "No, the final communication was in all human languages, and was transmitted from an orbiting ship."

Angie had returned her attention to the monitor, and was frantically scanning more text in English, then French, which she knew pretty well, then Italian which was a bit weaker. She searched for similar phrases, and then looked for a few key terms in the Visitor communication blocks.

"It's all they're talking about… system problems, water issues, I can't figure out if they've isolated the problem, Willie, did you see any details in your language?"

"They do not seem to know what is happening, only that they are sick and they expect the water."

"They must know it's affecting the whole fleet, and the ground operations, if they're ordering 'suspend operations' from orbit."

"Oh, _shit_." Angie sat frozen, staring at a block of French text near the end of the string of messages. She searched the Italian, and the Spanish versions. There was no equivalent in English. Of course not… that's where the strongest remnants of the Resistance were still operating, the US was seen as an enormous coordinating network for the rest of the world. She looked up at her friends. "The last part of all of this, translations of the same phrase over and over: _Balayage final._ Final sweep."

"They may be suspending operations," Mike said grimly, "but like all departing invaders they're gonna wipe out as much as they can on the way."

"What a cliché," Angie grumbled, "'if I can't have you nobody can.'" Willie had brushed past her to re-examine the communications.

"I don't think there's anything else there, Willie," Angie told him, but he seemed to be looking for something in particular that she didn't see.

"These were done… two days ago." He looked at Angie. "Two days after we finished."

Mike jumped up from the table where he was leaning. "That means they've had two days to plan their goodbye presents…"

The five of them burst out of the radio shack; the first rays of the rising sun lit the camp. Mike took off for the weapons shed to warn Farber to get some heavy ammo ready. Elias and Robert ran to the cabins and group dorms to rouse the rebels and try to rearrange things into some kind of shelter, from what they had no idea.

Willie and Angie stood staring at one another, then the sky. Maggie appeared, two coffees in hand, and handed one to Angie.

"What's going on, you two look like you've been up all night, and Mike almost knocked me down just now."

"We just found out…" Angie began, but something in the air made her jerk around to look at Willie in terror.

"You hear that?"

A distant whining in the sky, getting closer.

"Cover!" Angie hollered, and grabbed Maggie by one arm to drag her to the far side of the motor pool as Willie took off toward the dorms yelling similar warnings. She called out again, this time in a piercing scream, "_EVERYBODY! COVER! INCOMING!"_

They managed to dive under the heaviest truck they could find, just as the dim wash of sunrise was blasted white by racing torrents of lightning.

This time, Angie made sure she went in last.


	15. Love that dirty water

While Maggie and Angie lay under a truck cursing their lack of weaponry, Willie, Donovan, and the others were sounding the alarm as Chris Farber tossed weapons out of the shed, hoping to forestall that single hit that would wipe out everything in a ball of fire.

Meanwhile, Elias was crouched in the radio shack receiving fragmented messages from the next point in their makeshift relay. From "upstream" came the impression that this wasn't a focused effort to wipe out the resistance. More like the "goodbye presents" Mike had alluded to. Realizing that they were following even crude radio signals to get an idea of where to burn up the rural Resistance, Elias and his unseen compatriots hastily cut off their communication, but not before Elias got one last crackly sentence: "sky cruiser systems failing, upstream says two more passes..." He took the risk of running it up the line to the next point. Then he shut down the set, and pulled out the wires for good measure.

And then… silence. Those who had dived for cover crept out very slowly, including Maggie and Angie. Farber, however, was still shouting to the rebels and handing out weapons.

"Don't you believe that's the last of it," he warned, "they're not just gonna kiss us goodbye and go. Take these, and take cover."

"How long?" someone asked.

"I'm a soldier, not a psychic," Farber retorted, "but I know this is _not_ over yet."

"Gee, _that's_ a big help."

Now Chris stood to his full height as he tossed bags of ammo to passing rebels who were already armed.

"Any of you see the fat lady fly by," he called out, "you just point 'er out and I'll tell ya when she starts singin'."

His scowl turned to an exaggerated smile of welcome when Maggie and Angie jogged up. "Good morning ladies, my name is Chris and I'll be your munitions supplier today. How about something in an AK-47, little lady?" He handed Maggie the aging Russian machine gun and a sack of clips. "You know how to tape 'em," he told her, dropping a roll of duct tape in the bag. "And you, you favor lizard guns, don't ya?" He reached back into one of the remaining boxes and passed Angie a hand blaster and the rifle model as well. She tucked the first in her waistband and hefted the second with a dark grin.

"I think I'm gonna like this," she admitted.

"Christ, I _hate_ these goddamn banana clips," Maggie bitched as she struggled to line two of them up so she could tape them up-and-down for ready switching. "How come _she_ gets the lightweight self-reload shit?"

"'cause she's had more practice, that's why!" Chris barked. "Now get out and stake a position, this ain't dollar day at the shoe mart!"

They were turning to find a good position when Elias raced up, breathless. "Two more passes, the upstream radio guy said his upstream said two more passes, looks like they're not long for the fight. Damn, Angie, it might be working!" Taking a small grenade launcher and box of grenades from Chris, he ran to tell anyone else he could find.

"Looks like we got us a fat lady!" Chris hollered to no one in particular. "Two more passes, the man said, but don't you come out until Tyler and I give the all clear!"

Angie stiffened in her tracks… _Tyler… the infirmary…_

The sky began to whine again. "Angie, c'mon!" Maggie grabbed her arm, but Angie shook her off.

"You find cover, I'll catch up!"

Maggie wanted to stop her, but knew it was impossible. With a look back at her friend, Maggie ran in the opposite direction as the whining grew louder, and the bolts of the sky cruisers' weapons could be heard tearing black swaths through the woods less than a mile away.

* * *

Angie ran like hell for the infirmary, and stopped dead. It lay in a smouldering heap of burnt wood and twisted bits of metal.

"_TYYLLLEERRR_!" she howled and raced toward the destroyed building. She would have made it, too, right into the burning pile, but a hand grabbed her belt and jerked her backwards behind a disordered group of empty metal drums.

"Jesus, woman, I ain't deaf… yet!"

Angie spun around and, still holding the blaster rifle in one hand, locked her other arm around Tyler's neck to pull him into a frantic kiss. He shoved her back.

"Your romantic timing sucks, y'know that? Get rid of that lizard gun, I got some badass shit to wave bye-bye with." He pulled her to the other side of the barrels, and shoved her to her knees to the right of a shoulder-held rocket launcher and a pile of specially adapted rockets.

"I can't hold that without shaking like some pussy, so you sit right here…" He pointed her in a direction facing north along the main open pathway through the camp, and handed her the launcher. He dropped to the ground and knelt up tight behind her, his left knee on the ground between her ankles, his right foot flat on the ground so Angie's elbow was braced on his knee. Then he shifted the launcher so that most of the weight was on Angie's right shoulder, with only the very end balanced on his own. With a grunt of pain, he reached his right arm around and grabbed hold of the stock, leaning forward to shove her head to his left, left cheek pressed hard against her right. Finally he locked his other arm around her waist to steady her. All of this happened more quickly and precisely than Angie could process it.

"Okay," he explained, "I'm gonna aim and you're gonna fire. Just let me do the sighting, and when I give the word you squeeze that trigger. When one rocket's gone, you reach down left and load another one. Can you handle that?"

"You're about to find out, asshole!" she shouted over the now-deafening whine of the Visitor sky cruisers.

Tyler roared out a laugh and stole a split second to turn a kiss against her cheek. "Ready, set…"

A sky cruiser came tearing over the clearing at about a hundred feet of altitude. Tyler led the aim and Angie followed, just as if they were dancing at the Ritz under a chandelier instead of kneeling in the dirt under fifty pounds of ordnance.

"Pull!" he ordered, and she squeezed the trigger, and was surprised at the minimal recoil as the rocket hissed away.

_Pfwhoomph! _ The tail end of the cruiser burst into smoke and flames and it veered off its path, its momentum carrying it safely beyond where the rebels were crouched at either side of the camp's main corridor. Another cruiser followed as Angie reached for another rocket and snapped it into place.

"Pull!"

_Pfwhoomph! _ This one hit dead center, and the cruiser simply vaporized.

All accompanied by scattered automatic fire and the muffled _boom_ of Elias's grenades.

Three more cruisers, two more direct hits, and one miss when the last cruiser in line spotted the pattern and changed his course, choosing survival over a last gasp of Visitor ego.

This time the silence was broken by scattered cheers and the sizzling sound of the self-destruct mechanisms built into the grounded sky cruisers.

"You okay?" Tyler asked Angie.

"Yeah… you?" He was breathing a little unevenly. She didn't want to think about what kind of damage this might be re-starting.

"You kidding? I think I've discovered my new favorite position," and he nudged up closer behind her to prove it. Then the whining came on, faster and louder than before.

"Lock and load, Angel!" But she'd done it already.

"Pull!"

_Pfwhoomph! _ The cruiser vaporized.

There were three more, none of them close enough to fire effectively. The last one in line wove, fluttered, and crashed all on its own.

"God damn," Tyler muttered, "you geeks do kick some _fierce_ ass, don't you?"

Angie dropped the rocket launcher to the ground from trembling hands, then collapsed back against Tyler, completely out of breath.

"I _love_ that dirty wa-tah," she sang weakly in a random key, "uh-ohh Boston yer my home."

"Crazy broad," he gasped, equally spent, the wounds in his chest and side on fire.

"Worse than crazy," she corrected, "Red Sox fan. We are known for the odd, ferocious comeback." She struggled to her feet and reached a hand down.

After she pulled him up Tyler looked around, listened, then turned back to Angie and informed her, "This just might be that other side."

"We're still breathing. And you're still here." Filthy, bleeding through his bandages, sweating like a horse and gasping for breath, Tyler still looked better to her than any man she'd ever known.

He reeled her in with his one almost-good arm and finished the kiss she'd started before the firefight.

"A promise is a promise. C'mon, let's go see who's left standing. Y'know, if Gooder bought the farm I'm fresh outta targets."

They both knew if he thought it were true, he'd never have said it, and wouldn't admit _that_ with a gun to his head. Leaning on each other for support, they made their way back toward the center of camp.


	16. Skid marks

By the time Tyler and Angie reached the main road through the camp they were walking side by side, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. When Angie hung back for a heartbeat, afraid of what they would find, he squeezed gently and said quietly, "Last steps, Angel... you can't turn back now." But he was wondering, too.

They stepped into the clearing to see their fellow rebels venturing carefully out, looking at the sky, looking at each other. Everyone was wondering the same thing, and nobody dared to ask. In the distance, just past the ruined infirmary and just outside of the radio shack, Angie saw Maggie on the ground. Elias stood in the open door, leaning over her.

Angie shook off Tyler's hand and tore through the camp, screaming "_Maggieee!" _at the top of her voice, terrified by the prospect that her last loss of the war could be this one. As she skidded and stumbled to a stop, Maggie raised a face that was streaked with dirt and tears and gestured past where Elias stood.

"It's over," she gasped, then sobbed, "the fifth column relayed… it's _over._"

Speechless, Angie looked at Elias who was simultaneously nodding in agreement and shaking his head in disbelief.

"I hooked up the receiver after the last cruiser went down. One of the fifth column ships sent it down the line… they're taking what's left of their puking storm troopers and failing filters and they're _leaving._ They don't even have the manpower to pull off a scorched earth retreat. They're just… gone." Elias repeated in a triumphant shout: "THEY'RE GONE!" and the rest of the camp came running.

Angie's eyes locked with Maggie's, and the things that they had shared and survived that could find no words were acknowledged, relived, and put to rest in one long, painful/joyous/shattered look. When Maggie reached a hand up to Angie, and was pulled to her feet, they framed each other's faces with trembling fingers and pressed their foreheads together.

"We made it, Mags," Angie whispered raggedly, "we _made_ it."

They clutched each other in an iron grip, laughing and wailing and laughing again, and finally, silent. When they parted for a moment they saw Willie standing nearby, his face a picture of things that they could read but not describe. Both reached out to pull him into their embrace.

"_Made _it, we made it," Maggie chanted fiercely.

"Hey, there's another one!" somebody shouted, and pointed to a Visitor sky cruiser coming in fast, rotating so its wings waggled up and down.

Angie jumped back and pulled out her hand blaster shrieking at the sky, "We said it's _over!_" Tyler stepped up and closed his hand over hers, lowering the weapon.

"Easy, Angel. The _bad_ guys don't wave."

* * *

Mike went to meet the cruiser as it glided to a landing in the wide clearing at the center of the camp. A blond male Visitor stepped out followed closely by a dark haired male and a blonde female. From where Angie stood with Tyler and the others she could see Mike and the lead Visitor first shake hands, then Mike slapped the other on the back and abruptly jerked him into a raucous hug. Angie turned to Tyler and asked, "Is that Martin?"

"Yeah, that's him. Gotta say he wound up being way more than I expected."

"Lots of 'em did," she mused, "and we'll never even know who they were." Angie looked at the blaster in her hand for a minute, and then held it out to Tyler. "Here," she told him, "I'm ready to stop now."

Tyler didn't take it from her. Instead he nodded toward Martin and suggested, "Why don't you give it to him. It was only a loaner, anyway. You don't wanna owe him."

She smiled a little. "Okay."

"I owe him enough for both of us," Tyler mumbled to himself as she left his side to walk over to where Mike and the Visitor were talking. "He brought you back."

Mike and Martin's excited exchange stopped when Maggie reached them.

"Angie," Mike began, "this is…"

"Martin," Angie interrupted. "You piloted the cruiser that brought me here from, from… the other place. Thank you."

Martin looked a little uncomfortable, remembering how convinced he'd been this Angie was a mole, and how he'd wanted to get her as far away from the Resistance as possible... or worse.

"Nothing to thank me for, we were all in it together," he deflected, "besides, Mike said there'd be hell to pay if we didn't."

"You brought us _both_ back. Me and Todd. You didn't have to," she insisted, staring at him in fascination. _I knew there were more like Willie, but how many more than that who didn't join a fifth column? Who weren't raised up as soldiers and used those skills to help Earth?_

"The hell he didn't," Mike protested, "you had that disruptor rifle right in my face."

The memory jarred her, flashed her back to what she was feeling (or not feeling) that day.

"Oh god I'm so sorry," she told Mike with sudden urgency, "I don't know how to tell you, but I have to get it out of my head… I knew it was you when I shot you. I knew, and I didn't _care_." Her voice and expression were so horrified that Martin stepped discreetly away, leaving Mike to deal with the strangely mixed fallout of victory. He conferred with Elias, Julie, and Robert, who had come running to hear more details

Mike took Angie's arm and drew her to the far side of the Visitor cruiser. "C'mon, Angie, take it easy."

She clutched him by the shirtsleeve, unable to stop. "You don't understand, you came to take me out of there and I didn't care if I killed you dead, any of you, _all _of you."

He pulled her hand away and squeezed it hard, so much like Tyler had done in the past that Angie stopped shaking and stood still to listen as Mike told her harshly, "Listen sister, don't tell me I don't understand what it's like to not give a shit who dies next, as long as it's not you. Or even if it _is_ you, to want to take anybody within range along with you because you feel like the last human bit of you is burnt clean away. I understand plenty, and I understood it long before the Visitors came. Tyler and me may have been on different sides, but we were always in the middle of the exact same endless bloody free-for-all between however many sides believed they had the right to rule the roost. Not caring if you killed me or not is a long way from wanting to, or I wouldn't be standing here. So let's just forgive each other, and see if we can figure out how to get civilized again. Okay?"

She nodded weakly. "Y'know what, you and Tyler, in some ways you're so alike it's scary. And you'd both rather die than admit it."

"He's right… you are certifiable."

"Uh-huh." But she held back as Mike was walking away.

"What _now_?" he asked.

"How do we do it? Get civilized again?" She shuddered inwardly. "You can't un-do what we did or un-see what we've seen, or un-be what we've been."

He shrugged. "Beats me. We'll get out like we got in… making it up as we go along."

When they rounded the cruiser, they saw the whole camp assembled. Martin was boosting Julie up on the wing of the cruiser, then he clambered up to stand beside her.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Julie announced in a shaky voice. "But it's over. I could give you all the technical details, but the bottom line is that the Visitor invasion parties, the ones who could still fly, have returned to the mother ship, and have left orbit."

The raggedy crowd broke into wild cheers, embracing and dancing. A few fired celebratory shots into the air.

"Cut that out, and _now!_" Tyler roared from where he stood under a tree that had been splintered by the last pass of the departing invaders. "There's been enough firepower for one morning!"

Hundreds of eyes stared at the Fixer, Firepower Junkie Deluxe, in disbelief.

"He's right," Julie called out in agreement. "It's time to put the guns down and start putting our lives, and our world, back together. Most of you have heard of Martin, the leader of the West Coast fifth column." She put her hand on his shoulder, and cheers erupted again. "He's just told us that the others of his people who were on our side, fifth column and 'freelancers'," here she smiled broadly down at Willie, "will be organizing reconnaissance to bring home the rebels who are still in the field, using the transports the Visitors abandoned when they escaped. By this time tomorrow we'll be back in L.A."

A young man's voice rang out from somewhere toward the edge of the assembled rebels.

"Bout time those fucking lizards did something decent!"

Julie looked sidelong at Martin, who shook his head and shrugged as if he'd been expecting it.

"Who said that?" screamed a shrill voice. "I said _WHO SAID THAT?" _

Angie strode to the front of the cruiser, dragging a hesitant Willie by the arm, Maggie right behind them.

"If it wasn't for this fucking lizard," she pulled Willie close by her side, "and others like him, you'd be long gone by now, you knuckle dragging inbred redneck! Anyone who thinks otherwise, come on up and say it to our faces, if you have the balls!"

Maggie stepped out and added, "And if you DO have the balls, we'll be happy to shoot 'em off!"

"C'mon, ten bucks to the first person who hands over that loudmouth asshole!"

Julie and Martin finally got Maggie and Angie's attention (Willie was standing between them, looking a little uneasy if the truth be known) and Julie urged them to calm down. When they did, and joined the rest of the rebels to listen, Julie and Martin continued explaining the plan for the next thirty-six hours.

* * *

Chris Farber approached Tyler where he was leaning against the splintered tree trunk, and wearing a satisfied grin.

"Those are two badass women," he told Tyler. "No matter how they started out."

"And one of 'em's mine."

"'Yours', huh? What does she have to say about that?"

Tyler swallowed. "Dunno yet. We haven't exactly discussed it. But I know one thing, when I get outta this camp I am getting outta this business."

"Bro, you said a mouthful," Farber acknowledged. "We are getting too old for this shit. Besides, it'll take at least ten years for everyone to get all grouped up and factioned off again. Pickings'll be slim in our line of work."

"What do you think of freelance security?" Tyler mused. "I mean the 'defensive' kind. You 'n' me we've got the paranoid mind figured out beginning to end, and after the haves recover from the war, they are gonna be hot to trot to 'protect' themselves from the have-nots. Shouldn't be hard to help folks identify their weak spots, and sell 'em ways to cover 'em."

Chris nodded; paying casual attention to the ad-hoc rebel meeting that was breaking up in front of them. "Well that all sounds pretty good, the market sure is there. We've got the hardware covered, top to bottom."

"And our own personal private geek," Tyler grinned, and stood up. "To get the termite's perspective, y'know."

Both men laughed out loud. "Good thing we didn't shoot her that day, huh?" Chris observed.

Tyler's laughter faded. "Better than you know."

Farber read his friend's silence, and expression. "You get it now, don't you? You know May Linh's gone for good. And Angie's here. And there's no more room in your head for blame, for any of it."

"Yup, yup, and yup. Can't say it's her that did it, but it's happening at the right time." He looked squarely in his friend's eyes. "Go ahead and say it, it's about fucking time."

"Nah. I knew you'd come around sooner or later."

Up went Tyler's eyebrows. "Twenty years is sooner or later? Bullshit."

"I'm a patient man, Ham, a patient man," the big man smiled honestly. "Okay, time to herd these cats into the last roundup." In the distance he noticed Angie shouting down whoever the unwise asshole had been who'd shot his mouth off earlier. The man looked contrite, to say the least. "And _you'd_ better tend to that wild ass library lady before she starts busting heads."

Tyler shot his non-existent cuffs and stiffened as if preparing for battle. "And me without my Glock..."


	17. A halfway decent proposal

Angie was reluctant to give in to the hand that had taken hold of her shoulder. She was far too deep into the verbal ass whupping she was dishing out to the greasy little sleaze who had tried to talk like a big man. He didn't have the nerve to walk away, and right now was looking over her shoulder at Tyler like a drowning man looks at a lifeguard.

"Angel, leave the poor kid alone. I think he's learned his lesson, haven't you kid? Gonna watch your mouth from now on, right?" Standing behind Angie, who was still focused like a laser on her sweaty, zit-faced target, Tyler widened his eyes and nodded pointedly to the kid to convince him to say the right thing.

"Yeah, really, I was just being a dumb fuck. I mean it's been a hard time, y'know? Man, _nobody_ ended up like they started out, did you?"

_That_ stopped Angie's tirade in its tracks. She gasped a breath, and was unable to go on.

"Take off, kid," Tyler directed. He circled Angie and looked closely at her. "Pull up on the throttle. I know it's sudden, but it's time to land." He could see that the kid's last observation had hit her hard. "C'mon, let's go somewhere quiet."

He led Angie, now silent, to the far edge of the camp where a grouping of rocks on the edge of a hill had formed the lookout station. It was abandoned but for a few empty water bottles and scattered cigarette butts. Tyler sat Angie down on a long narrow boulder, and then sat next to her facing the opposite way. Her face wasn't apoplectic-red now, and her breathing had returned to normal.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. All that shooting, all the noise, it was over so fast. Hard to hit the brakes like that."

"You left some mighty skid marks, no question. You won't be the only one. The only thing harder than falling into war is falling out of it."

She nodded, mouth shut tight, eyes a little vague, as if she was trying to figure out what to say next. He reached his arms around her; when she leaned against his shoulder he rested his chin on her head, and they were quiet for a few minutes.

"What now?" she asked. Not worried about what the answer might be, just bereft of ideas.

"Funny you should ask… I've been doing some thinking about what comes next. Now me and you, still breathing, still here, that's not gonna change that I can see. You good with that?"

Angie nodded but didn't answer. The sun was shining, and she was breathing easy – as in 'stand still, be quiet, and breathe' – for the first time in a long time. She could lose herself in the feel of him, dirty and bloody as he was, and the sound of his breathing, and the dark velvet of his voice. She was not inclined to disturb any of that by contributing to the conversation.

"Okay then. What's also not gonna change, is you know me better than anyone. You know who I am, and who I've been. You've managed to find every skeleton I've hung in the closet, every body I've buried. All without ever asking. That's mighty powerful knowledge to have of somebody in my line of work. So the way I see it, I got two options for survival: I gotta marry you, or kill you. Myself, I'm leaning toward option one. Besides, you've been getting the milk for free for long enough, lady. It's time to buy the goddamn cow, or switch to water."

By the end of his speech she had sat up and was staring at him, not quite bug-eyed.

"Tell me you didn't really say 'buy the cow'. Please."

"Don't play word games, Angel, you know what I mean. It wasn't exactly a priority while we were blowing up the world, but now that the dust is settling… look the fact is that we're together, we've been together, we're gonna be together, almost like we have no choice in it. Not even 'almost'. But like it or not, for me that comes with a ring."

Those chocolate eyes were looking right into her again, and she couldn't look away. "Not to stir anything up, but you're already married."

"Not anymore." He shook his head. "Not for a long time now, I'm not. I made sure for a long time I didn't think about it enough to _have_ to be sure, but I'm sure now. So if you're wondering what would happen if… well I know it's not gonna."

"So then you're saying if your wife turned up alive, if Mai Linh walked out of the smoke tomorrow… I don't think I need you to say you know what you'd do. I just need to know that whatever it was, you'd have given it some thought from time to time before it happened. If it happened." He was looking at her strangely, surprise in his eyes, and not for what she was suggesting.

"I never told you her name."

_Well now's as good a time as any._ "Yeah you did, more than once. You just weren't awake at the time."

He hugged her against his shoulder again. "I'm sorry, you didn't need to hear that." She pulled away and touched his face lightly.

"Don't be sorry… it's good. It tells me you've been giving it some thought. So I'm not wondering, about any of it."

She was frowning, though, and he couldn't ignore it.

"So what's bothering you?"

"Just that, well, I know you had this good marriage, or as good as it could be. And you know I had a collaborator and an alien double agent."

"And a demo derby driver who taught you to dogleg turn in a bookmobile. Probably others I couldn't give a shit about either. Believe me, I had a long ugly stretch between my marriage and this war, myself. And besides, like the cowboy said to Marilyn Monroe, I love you like you are, I don't care how you got that way." When Angie looked surprised he added, "What? I told you that first night in L.A., I know the classics."

"Woo, imagine me as Marilyn Monroe." She tossed her head, her (slightly) lengthening hair stirring a little with the motion.

"Close enough for the New World. So? Which is it gonna be, marriage or death?"

Angie's head was rattling with everything that had happened in the past year or more (who knew from calendars anymore?). Never in her life had she thought of getting married to anyone at all. Especially not someone like this. Though she had to admit that until now her choices in romance had left, well, _everything_ to be desired.

"Well I can't say I've ever dreamed of being swept off my feet by a fully armed mercenary."

Tyler put on a dreamy face. "Well let me tell _you,_ from the time I was a little boy lying on my little bed at night, I dreamed of the day when I could woo and win a computer geek who's as crazy as a bagful of rabid squirrels, and with a mouth that could kill at thirty paces."

At this, Angie pulled back and muttered, "Keep talking, Tyler, you're makin' it sound more and more like death."

He shrugged (outwardly, anyway… inwardly, not so much). "Up to you. Count up the complaints you have so far. I can probably manage to keep within those boundaries. No promises, but at least I've had a little practice in the last year or so, minus a couple months south of the border."

They stared at one another for a bit, and the subtle smiles that began to work their way across both their faces were remarkably similar.

"Okay, I guess," Angie said at last. "I mean, to be honest I'd rather chance fucking it up with you than getting it right with anyone else."

"Can I take that as a yes?"

"What were my choices again?" she deadpanned.

"Marriage or death."

"I guess I'll go with the first one."

"Great." Tyler got up and pulled Angie to her feet. "Question now is who can do the deed? Not many preachers left alive."

Angie was shaking her head vehemently.

"No preachers, and no justice of the peace. There is no god, no religion, no law_, _no _anything_ left standing that I trust enough to claim that authority."

"Well shit, you're not leaving me much to work with."

"You're the Fixer." She reached up spontaneously, and gave him a ferocious kiss. "Fix something. Oh, and one more thing. When we find somewhere to live, I want a cat."

It was Tyler's turn for bug eyes. "A cat."

"Yeah, a cat. Really, I mean it," her voice turned pleading, "Dogs go everywhere, you know? They're about survival, even some of the rebels have been able to keep them wherever they had to run to. Dogs can be anywhere. But having a cat means you're _home_. A cat is like... it tells you life is _normal_ again. It'll tell me I'm not gonna be running for my life or looking over my shoulder. I don't know if I'll ever _believe_ the war is over unless I can feel like that."

He could see she was serious, no matter how far out of left field it was coming, and whether or not it made sense to him. He'd never liked them much, cats, they always seemed to be figuring you out when they looked at you. But shit, after all she'd been through it wasn't much to ask.

"A cat. Okay, Angel, we'll find you a cat. If the lizards haven't _eaten_ 'em all." He was walking back toward camp, but stopped when he realized she wasn't walking with him. When he turned to ask why, he saw her standing in the same place he'd left her, only now her eyes were running and she looked ready to fall apart.

"Don't _cry_ about it, I was just bullshitting. There's bound to be a few left, they couldn't have eaten _all _of them!" That had the opposite of its intended affect.

"What a shitty thing to say!" she bawled. "And why are you _laughing_?"

He'd almost managed not to, but not quite. "I'm sorry, baby, c'mere," he reached out to pull her closer. "It's just that in the past hour you went from shooting down lizards and threatening some kid's life to crying over some cats you never saw. It's kind of hard keeping up."

"Yeah," she sniffled, "well it's not too late to make a run for it."

"And lose the wildest woman in the New World?"

He wiped away her tears, lifted her into a deep, hard, kiss, and dropped her on her feet again.

"Not a chance."


End file.
